When the Mountain breathes steam, but Bongo's survive: The hidden wonders of Eburu

At dawn, Mount Eburu exhales. From the fractures in the earth’s crust, white steam hisses and curls into the thin highland air, drifting through bamboo thickets and ancient Podo trees, dissolving above ridges crowned with towering Juniperus procera trees.

The Maasai call it Ol doinyo Opuru, meaning the mountain of steam.

Rising more than 800 metres above the Great Rift Valley floor, two peaks, 2,855 and 2,823 metres above sea level, stand silent like silent sentinels over a fragment of forest that refused to die.

For decades, Eburu was stripped, burned and hunted. Today, it is breathing again.

Joseph Lengetu kneels beside a tree, his fingers gently loosening damp soil. In the palm rests a slender root.

“This one is called Ol konyel, it improves appetite. It treats kidney problems. It opens the urinary tract and even helps with headaches,” he says

 Lengetu is an Ogiek elder, born and raised beside Eburu Forest. To him, the forest is not wilderness, it is a pharmacy, an inheritance and a secret trust.

“We have medicine for kidney diseases, for bones for arthritis, for chest complications, even medicine for women who struggle to conceive and many more”, he said

He explains how Ol konyel is prepared, roots cleaned, bark peeled, boiled in water or mixed with sheep, cow or goat soup for joint and bone problems.

“When you take it, you feel hungry. If you do not have food, do not take it”, he said, smiling.

 Harvesting medicine here is not guesswork.

“Roots underground are intertwined. If you do not know, you can remove a poisonous root without knowing,” he added.

He removes only one root from each plant, moving carefully from tree to tree, covering the soil afterwards.

“You must protect the forest because you will need it tomorrow “, he added

Before hospitals came, the Ogiek depended entirely on the forest. Even today, he says, clinic records remain low.

When Eburu was being destroyed, Lengetu felt it physically.

“When someone cuts trees in this forest, it feels like my hand is being cut,’’ he says quietly.

Eburu spans approximately 8,715 hectares, a remnant of the once vast Mau Forest ecosystem. Though isolated, it holds astonishing biological wealth.

At least 326 plant species, more than 60 mammal species and more than 200 birds.

But that richness was nearly erased, Cedar trees were felled for posts, charcoal kilns smouldered beneath the canopy, poachers stalked the undergrowth, and livestock grazed deep inside fragile habitats. Recurrent fires scarred the hillsides.

Joseph Mutongu, the forest and community manager at Rhino Ark in charge of Eburu Forest, recalls 2012.

“ Eburu had been heavily destroyed through charcoal burning, logging and poaching. Many animals and birds had disappeared because of habitat destruction. Buffaloes and bush pigs raided farms. Crops were destroyed. People were injured. Retaliation killings followed. ‘‘There was conflict on both sides,’’ Mutongu said.

Then came the fence.

Between 2012 and 2014, a 43.3-kilometre solar-powered electricity line was erected around the gazetted boundary.

It now defines and protects every hectare of the reserve, forming the backbone of a broader conservation strategy. “We first sensitised the community, we took some to Aberdare to see what fencing had achieved “, he added. After completion, the difference was immediate.

“Human wildlife conflict dropped significantly. Crops improved, living conditions became safer, “said Mutongu.

Inside the fence, the forest began regenerating, and indigenous trees were replanted in partnership with Eburu Rafiki and M-pesa Foundation. More than 34 schools were brought in to learn conservation directly from Ogiek elders and trained guides.

Before the fence, Lengetu recalled that honey production fell. Medicinal trees diminished. Food became scarce.

“It was a big Challenge, but now we have a reason to celebrate”, he said.

Higher up the eastern trail, Douglas Chege pauses as steam billows from a fissure in the ground, temperatures reaching nearly 90 degrees Celsius.

“There is magma beneath us, heat rises through fractures and mixes with underground water, that is how steam is formed, “said Chege. 

Visitors pay Sh500 for adults and Sh250 for children to explore Eburu Trails, winding through bamboo groves along the cold mountain streams lined with ferns and past waterfalls plunging from sheer cliffs into gorges riddled with damp caves.

The steam is more than a spectacle.

 “We place herbs like Leleshwa tree leaves on the stones when mixed with sulphur in the steam. Many believe it helps with respiratory diseases. Our forefathers used it,” said Chege.

From the summit, 2,837 metres above sea level, Mount Kenya shimmers in clear mornings. But many visitors come for the birds.

Eburu is a birding sanctuary. “We have more than 200 species,” says Chege proudly

Hartlaub’s Turaco flashes crimson wings mid-flight, parrots arrive seasonally to feast on fruit, and migratory birds drift from other forests.

High above, crowned eagles among Africa’s most powerful raptors patrol the canopy. Their survival speaks to forest recovery.

Some of the Eburu hunters are now its quietest guardian. Men who once set snares for bongos now patrol the slops daily, removing traps and monitoring wildlife, proof that even the hardest hearts can learn to protect.

“I was a notorious poacher, now poachers are my enemies, “admits Solomon Mureithi, a former hunter turned forest guardian.

Along the steep ridges and through dense bamboo, patrols move quietly, listening to the forest whispers, ensuring that steam, trees and bongos alike survive another day.

Camera traps strategically placed near animals’ tracks and salt licks capture the movement of the forest’s elusive inhabitants.

“With fewer than 120 mountain bongos remaining in the wild, every sighting is precious,’’ said Solomon.

Maseto Kosen lowers a beehive carefully to the ground, smoke calming the bees. He manages more than 500 colonised hives, a livelihood inherited from his grandfather.

“I have also about 1,000 beehives, but the ones colonised are more than 500. If you taste our honey, you will know it is original, without trees there is no honey and without trees, there is no forest, that is why we have to protect,” said Kosen

Through support from Rhino ARK, communities now benefit from beekeeping, organic farming and biogas, reducing dependency on firewood.

School programmes and conservation education have empowered children to protect their inheritance.

Deep within bamboo thickets moves a shadow, the mountain bongos. Fewer than 120 remain in the wild, confined to Eburu, Aberdares, Mount Kenya and parts of the Mau.

Many were killed through poaching; others were taken to European zoos during colonial times.