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When Cox first arrived in his adopted village of 2,000, he put
himself under the tutelage of a healer named Pela, now 82, who
agreed to be his mentor. Recently, Pela introduced Cox to cures
for eye diseases other than pterygium: a poultice of beach pea
leaves for sun blindness, fluid from immature coconuts for
general eye injury, and eye drops from a fern (Phymatosorus
scolopendrium) as a treatment for cataracts. Cox heard two other
healers from different villages verify this use of the fern, and
he was exuberant. "When three healers all use the same thing for
cataracts, it's like a dream come true," he exclaimed.
Cox is more than a healer's apprentice. He knows that if the
rain forests of Samoa continue to disappear, hundreds of
potential drugs hidden there may never be found. So he spends
much of his time between Brigham Young semesters trying to
preserve the acreage that remains. More than 80% of the lowland
rain forest has already been logged. Cox's aim is to offer
cash-poor Western Samoans an alternative to selling out to
loggers.
Samoans have traditionally used the forest for hunting,
collecting medicinal plants, harvesting wild fruits and cutting
trees for their dugout canoes. In this crucible of nature and
culture, Cox believes, lies hope for conservation and the future
of ethnobotany. "We can't save the forest without saving the
culture," he says, "and we can't save the culture without saving
the forest."
In 1988, Falealupo almost lost its 30,000-acre forest. The
government told the villagers to construct a new school. It
would cost $65,000, and the village would have to foot the bill.
Ironically--or tellingly--a logging company arrived in the
village shortly afterward and offered to pay $65,000 for
permission to cut down the forest. The villagers, their hand
forced, submitted.
Cox intervened just in time. He offered to raise enough money by
mortgaging his home in Utah. But while in the U.S. to make
arrangements, he pleaded the case to his students and two Mormon
businessmen. Within six weeks they had raised the money, and
Cox, back in Samoa, formalized an agreement with the villagers
to protect their forest for 50 years.
It was during this period that the villagers informed Cox that
they wanted to name him heir to the goddess Nafanua. When he
declined, fearing that the title would interfere with his
research, the villagers refused to sign the preservation
agreement. Cox relented. "Being a deity is not my cup of tea,"
he says, "but Nafanua stands for conservation and rain-forest
ecology, so I said to them, 'O.K., I'll take the cards I've been
dealt.'" Now chiefs and children alike respectfully address him
as Nafanua.
As a result of this work, Cox and a chief who helped him shared
one of the six prestigious Goldman Environmental Prizes for
1997. Each received $37,500. Since then Cox has expanded his
preservation efforts by establishing the Seacology Foundation,
based at Brigham Young. Some of the foundation's funding comes
through Cox's ethnobotanical success with medicinally, or in
this case cosmetically, valuable plants. When Nu Skin
International, a Utah-based personal-care company, wanted to
hire Cox as a consultant, he charged a $40,000 fee that he
plowed into the foundation. He also asked Nu Skin and Nature's
Way, another Utah cosmetics firm, each to match his Goldman
Prize award. Subsequently, Nu Skin began using extracts of a
plant with anti-inflammatory properties in a foot cream.
Seacology receives 25[cents] for every tube of the cream sold.
The foundation has since provided money for the Western Samoan
village of Tafua to preserve its 20,000-acre rain forest. It
helped persuade Congress to authorize the National Park of
American Samoa--about 10,000 acres of forest and 420 acres of
coral reefs in the neighboring archipelago. And it has helped
villages build schools, medical clinics and cisterns to catch
rainfall, the main source of drinking water.
In Falealupo, the foundation paid for the construction of a
series of connected platforms and a walkway 200 ft. high between
two huge trees at the edge of the forest. Administered by
villagers, the aerial complex has brought in about $1,000 a
month from tourists and school groups since it opened, profit
that the villagers use to maintain the forest. "This is the
first time these people have made money from the forest without
destroying it," says Cox. "If they keep making this kind of
money and other villages hear about it, the forests will be
saved."
Cox dreams that one day soon the people of Western Samoa will
see the benefit of preserving not only the rain forests
surrounding their villages but also the vast cloud forests that
still cloak the sides of the volcanoes that form the spine of
Savai'i. Here he hopes the villagers will agree to "make the
biggest national park in the whole world," before the chain saws
get there too. He wants them to become as excited about the
project as he is, rather than have the impetus come from
outside. Behind this goal lies a philosophy that runs through
Cox's work: helping native people understand the wealth of their
heritage so that they will want to preserve it rather than sell
it. Since it's no less than Nafanua who is urging them on, that
seems a reasonable goal.
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