elephants to poachers over the last two decades.
The Akashinga (“brave ones” in the Shona lan-
guage) patrol Phundundu, which borders 29
communities. The proximity of people and ani-
mals sometimes leads to conflicts such as the one
Kumire’s headed to now, involving the leopard.
At the scene, Kumire wades into an angrycrowd. Standing five feet two inches tall, she
could easily get lost in the chaos, but she moves
calmly and confidently through the emotionally
charged group, speaking softly but firmly. Ten
injured men slowly come forward. One has a
bandage on his cheek, another’s arm is wrapped
in blood-stained cotton. Eight others nursing
scratches and punctures cluster around her.
Conservation officials had collected the leop-ard’s carcass and accused the men of wrongdoing,
inflaming the crowd. The injured men say the
leopard attacked, but based on their minor
wounds, the rangers are skeptical this was unpro-
voked self-defense. Killing wildlife without a
permit is a criminal offense. But the leopard’s
skin, teeth, claws, and bones—worth hundreds of
dollars on the black market—represent a month’s
salary in Zimbabwe’s impoverished economy.
With the carcass secured and the events sur-
rounding the leopard’s death duly recorded,
the team’s job now is to remind the community
they’re here to help with wildlife-human inter-
actions. The women load the wounded men into
their truck and take them to the local clinic.
Scenes like this are the essence of the Akashin-
ga’s mission and familiar scenarios for its founder,
Damien Mander, a tattoo-covered Australian andTHE BRAVE ONES 109