In northern Botswana’s Okavango Panhandle, narrow footpaths wind through dry farmland and scattered homes, tracing the boundaries of one of Africa’s last great elephant migration corridors.

Here, people and elephants walk the same paths. But as magical as it might sound, sharing space is fraught with difficulties – and it’s not always peaceful.

About 18,000 elephants live in the region, along with an estimated 16,000 people. Most residents rely on subsistence farming, coaxing crops from Kalahari sands and unpredictable rains. Their fields are clustered along the banks of the Okavango River, where water is close and soil slightly more forgiving.

Yet survival here is a daily challenge.

“An elephant can destroy a whole field in one night,” said conservationist Dr. Anna Songhurst. Songhurst was a panellist on a recent Tipping Points webinar hosted by Oppenheimer Generations Research & Conservation. The theme was: “The Human Key: Unlocking Coexistence with Wildlife”.

The conflict takes many forms. Elephants raid fields. Children often walk kilometers to school. “Sometimes they do not make it. Fear grips them halfway, and they run back home,” said Songhurst.

Across the border in Zambia, similar stories unfold. In the Kafoe region, many communities border the vast national park. “These families face similar risks — crop raids, livestock loss, even injuries and deaths from animal encounters,” said Morris Munene, Nature Risk Manager at AB Entheos, a  nature-focused risk management firm operating in Zambia and Kenya.

Amid this conflict, wildlife crime thrives. When people see wildlife as an enemy due to the losses they incur, many are driven to retaliate, said Munene.

Munene and Songhurst agreed that this resentment created conditions conducive to wildlife crime and cooperation with criminal networks involved in poaching.

Joining them on the Tipping Points panel were Dr. Alexandra Zimmermann, Chair of the IUCN Human-Wildlife Conflict & Coexistence Specialist Group, and Nkateko Mzimba, an environmental educator and former field ranger with the Black Mambas in South Africa.

The discussions highlighted that addressing the root causes of human-wildlife conflict — including poverty, fear, and economic loss — is a foundational strategy for building community resilience.

For Songhurst and her team in Botswana, one solution is simple but powerful: the Elephant Express Bus. Created with local trusts and private partners, it ferries children safely across elephant corridors, making the journey to school possible.

Her team also uses real-time local data. “It’s where the elephants are actually moving,” said Songhurst. “Now, it’s about finding ways to protect people and farms outside those corridors.”. That safety net is just one of several community-designed responses. Ecoexist Trust also promotes Elephant Aware Farming — families plan fields outside elephant routes, install solar-powered fences, and adopt sustainable practices that improve yields.

In return, farmers are certified and linked to premium markets. Others earn from elephant-themed crafts, honey harvested from bee-protected fields, or eco-tourism experiences where visitors learn what it means to live with elephants.

Munene stressed that providing financial consolation to victims of conflict helps prevent illegal activities. His approach focuses on rebuilding trust and delivering solutions communities have asked for.

He described a pilot programme in Kafue. “We are compensating people who encounter losses — death or injury, crop damage, livestock predation, or property damage,” he said. “It is just a small consolation… but it helps people get back to a better position.”

But coexistence, Zimmermann emphasized, isn’t just about elephants or lions — nor is it about quick fixes.

“Good human-wildlife coexistence work takes time,” she said. “There needs to be an initial investment in listening rather than rushing to a quick fix.”

“There is a real pressure to act quickly,” she added. “That urgency makes us want to reach for the fastest solution — a fence, a sensor, a payout.”

But if communities don’t own the solution, she warned, “it often fails. At best, it disappoints. At worst, it backfires.”

Zimmermann, who has worked across continents, argues that most so-called “human-wildlife” conflict is actually human-human conflict about wildlife — disagreements between farmers and policymakers, rangers and developers, or conservationists and local authorities.

According to Munene, insurance alone isn’t the answer. “We cannot wish away humans or wildlife,” he said. “We have to find a way of living together.”

In Zambia, they are piloting parametric drought insurance — payouts are triggered automatically when rainfall falls below a threshold. “This is the first time such a project is being introduced in Zambia,” said Munene. “We hope the data helps us improve delivery.”

Zimmermann also stressed that conservation must go beyond involving communities — it must be led by them.

That starts with trust: listening to local histories, rebuilding damaged relationships, and sharing decision-making power.

“You need communities to benefit,” she said. “But you also need them to want to live alongside the animals. Both must go hand in hand. If that balance is off, the whole system becomes unstable.”

To help achieve that balance, Munene’s team trained community verification officers — local residents who document conflict incidents using mobile tools. This, said Munene has fostered trust and shown that communities are prepared to adopt the solutions they need.

Zimmermann’s work has helped shape IUCN policies and international guidelines on community-led conservation. These have been translated into dozens of languages and adopted by the FAO and others.

“We have plenty of evidence,” she said. “The communities that take ownership of the solutions are the ones where real, lasting coexistence becomes possible.”

While many conservation solutions in Southern Africa focus on adults, in South Africa’s Limpopo province, Nkateko Mzimba takes a different approach — teaching children in her childhood creche about conservation.

Mzimba began as a field ranger with the Black Mambas, patrolling for snares. Today, her mission has extended into classrooms and bush outings. Through her educational project, she organises day trips for local children.

“Some of these kids had never seen an animal outside of TV or heard about it on the radio,” she said. “Now they come back saying, ‘My favourite species is a rhino.’ It makes their parents think differently.”

The trips include games, drawing sessions, and night-time storytelling by firelight. “I ask them to draw what they’ve seen,” Mzimba said. “Some want to be rangers or guides. For me, that’s success.”

“It is not just about meeting people’s immediate needs,” said Songhurst, reflecting on her own work. “But also tackling the deeper issues — competition for space, the vulnerability of farming, and the cost of coexistence.”

Mzimba believes the impact on children is deeper than traditional awareness campaigns. “Adults already have a mindset. They think about easy money, about poaching,” she said. “But children, they’re still open. That’s why I invest in them.”

While these conservationists are encouraged by the adoption of new methods, they’re under no illusion about the pace of change.

Songhurst has seen that patience pay off. “Everybody is different. Some people will want to try new techniques, others won’t,” she said. Her team starts with early adopters who lead by example. “That kind of peer-to-peer learning is a great way to expand initiatives.”

Mzimba agrees. “It will take years to achieve it,” she said. “But constantly, it’s very important to collaborate.”