Not just monkeying around

Vegetarian Times, Nov, 1998 by Suzanne Gerber

Eloy Rodriquez, Ph.D., the James A. Perkins Professor of Environmental Studies at Cornell University, doesn't turn to just indigenous people in the rain forest for leads on medicinal plants; in recent years, he's come to rely on the local animals.

It started back in 1980, when Harvard primatologist Richard Wrangham, a former graduate student of Jane Goodall's in Tanzania, happened to notice some chimps grimacing every time they ate a particular leaf. Working on the assumption that behavior has meaning--even among primates--Wrangham shipped some samples to his friend Rodriquez for analysis. It turned out that the plant contained compounds that inhibited the growth of certain disease-causing parasites. Rodriquez's response was a resounding "wow?

"If it hadn't been for the animal behavior," says the 51-year-old South Texas native, "I never would have looked at that plant. And further study showed it to also inhibit the growth of the solid tumors found in colon and breast cancer. We're still trying to find the mechanism by which it works."

Since then, Rodriquez has established professional collaborations with several other tree-dwelling colleagues in Venezuela, Peru and Uganda. He's done a lot of work with South America's capuchin monkeys, known for their peculiar habit of rubbing their fur with certain plants. "They're not eating or rubbing these things randomly," he says. "They're carefully selecting them for medication." By first isolating then analyzing the plants the monkeys select, Rodriquez has discovered a potentially effective pest repellent for people and crops.

Since there wasn't a term for Rodriquez's unique interdisciplinary approach to research, he coined one: zoopharmacognosy (zoo for animals, pharma for drugs and cognosy for recognition). "There's so much to learn from animals," he says. "For example, some birds line their nests with certain plants to repel insects and some secrete a chemical that has the same effect. Others make an ant repellent out of ants. It's very clear that animals are dependent on plants for nutrients. What we are now discovering is that these plants are also important for the animals' health, and by observing how they use them, we can learn about plants that can be potentially used by humans."

A typical year for Rodriquez is seven months at Cornell, in upstate New York, teaching courses on biodiversity and tropical plant research plus doing chemical research in his own lab, then five months doing field research in the rain forests of South America, the Caribbean and Africa: For all his years of fieldwork, Rodriquez is still impressed by the natives' intimate knowledge of--and ability to navigate--the rain forest. "You go into the middle of the jungle, surrounded by 5,000 plant species. Then what? An American wouldn't know which way to turn, but an Indian will crush a leaf, smell it and say, from experience, that all plants that smell like this are good for malaria. But how do people figure it out? Native people usually can't answer that question. They say it comes from their ancestors, or the spirits, or they talk about their myths. As a scientist, I am interested in the process of discovery."

Although it's not an exact science--something that's infinitely frustrating to right-brain-dominated researchers like Rodriquez--there are likely answers. "One story I heard is about a young boy acting wild, and his elders tying him to a tree. He ate some of that tree's bark, it calmed him, and the tribes people began to use that bark as a sedative. All it really takes," Rodriquez quips, "is one smart Indian to figure it out."

Tribal people have taught Rodriquez a lot about plant medicine, and in exchange, he uses his experience as a chemist to help them treat the widespread diseases, like malaria and worm infestation, that kill their children by the millions. While he has tremendous respect for people like Cox and Balick, he is a little wary of all the "bioprospecting" going on. "I'm not interested in making pharmaceutical companies rich," says Rodriquez, never one to mince words. Over the years, he's approached a few companies, but the experiences left a bad taste in his mouth. He recalls one visit, when he arrived with six plants he knew would cure jungle diseases. But instead of having money or contracts waved in his face, he was shown the door and told, curtly, that poor indigenous people don't buy drugs.

Rodriquez loves nothing more than getting his students in on his act, and as a Mexican-American, he encourages minority students to get involved. Typically he'll take 10 to 15 budding ethnobotanists into the jungle to give them invaluable hands-on experience. "They're usually in a state of shock the first time," he says. "But once they acclimate to the heat, humidity, swarms of mosquitoes, giant ants, vampire bats, tarantulas and rampant diarrhea, they don't want to go back home."

And yet Rodriquez has one recurring nightmare. "Every night, when I close my eyes, I have a horrifying image: Every tree in the forest has been removed. Birds, insects, monkeys all float in space, their homes and sources of food and medicine gone. People may think that destroying the rain forest one tree at a time is harmless, but it's not. The impact will affect us and the rest of the planet forever."