We just got back about an hour ago from a full 36 hours in Niokolo Koba, West Africa’s largest national park. It was a great, albeit dusty, adventure. We saw giant antelope that stand almost 7 feet at the shoulder, families of warthogs, dozens of bird species, civets and hyenas, fish shimmering in deep water and fast rapids, hundreds of tree species, lion and leopard prints, and signs of a healthy environment everywhere. It’s an incredible corner of planet earth and it deserves its status as a World Heritage Site.

But, Niokolo Koba’s history is also a complicated one. The people of Niognani, our home in southeastern Senegal, used to live in one of the most beautiful corners of the park. The name of their community – Nion Niagni in full form – means “place of plenty.” People from hundreds of miles away used to stop there on long journeys to load up with millet and water. Our host, Kecouta, says that if you put a seed in the ground, it would immediately grow. Towering teak trees provide shade in that part of the park. Wildlife abounds. Water was less than 10 feet below the drive land. It was a perfect place to live and to coexist with the natural world of the park.

Sadly, when Niokolo Koba was transitioned from a protected forest to a national park, the government made the decision to move the people of Niognani and a dozen other villages out of the forest. They were loaded into large buses and forced out of their homes and to a spot near the national highway far from the shady trees, the fertile ground, the animals, and the water. The community of almost 1,500 people slowly shrank as the resettled families chose instead to go live with their friends and relatives. The way of life that had sustained the community for hundreds of years – that had earned them their name – was disrupted completely.

Kecouta was born before the village was moved out in the early 1970s. He remembers a childhood of plenty, with adventure around every corner. He remembers living in harmony with the wildlife of the forest and feeling that his people were caretakers of the land. It confuses him to this day that they were taken away from that corner of the world that they knew and protected. But they were.

Today, Kecouta’s sons and daughters have to pay an entry fee to go back and visit where their ancestors grew up. They don’t have access. Most of them have never see the forest or the river or the animals. They haven’t seen the abandoned wells or houses. It’s a lost heritage.

For us, our hours in the park were incredible. It’s an amazing place that is better and better protected each month. Lions and their prey are increasing in numbers. People are finally studying the unique populations of baboons and chimpanzees. It’s a renaissance moment.

But, it remains a sad reminder of priorities and how they are focused on economic drivers rather than culture, the environment, or equity. It was good to introduce our students to this story. It’s a familiar one for people who know the history of the Shenandoah, or the communities on the banks of rivers where dams have submerged communities around the world.

We are in great spirits and good health. There are lots of ideas filling our conversations and our minds. There are great blog posts to come and lots of pictures to share. But, for now, just know that even a good trip can be full of sad stories. It’s good to reflect on life.

Here, in Senegal, life is everywhere. It’s open.