Jane Goodall

Hello, my name is Jane Goodall, and I am a primatologist, an anthropologist, and a person who has always believed in the power of hope. My story, however, didn't begin in a laboratory or a university classroom. It began in a small house in London, England, where I was born on April 3rd, 1934. From my earliest days, I was fascinated by the animal world. I didn't just love our family dog, Rusty; I felt a deep connection to every living creature. I remember once, when I was only four years old, I hid inside a small, stuffy henhouse for hours, just so I could discover the great mystery of how a hen lays an egg. My poor mother was so worried she even called the police, but when she finally found me, she didn't scold me. Instead, she saw my muddy, excited face and listened patiently as I told her everything I had observed. It was that kind of encouragement that shaped my entire life.

My father gave me a special gift for my first birthday: a lifelike stuffed chimpanzee that I named Jubilee. Some of my mother’s friends were worried that such a toy would give me nightmares, but I adored him. Jubilee sat on my pillow every night and went everywhere with me. He was the first spark of my love for chimpanzees. As I grew, I filled my imagination with stories of wild places and incredible animals. I would climb my favorite beech tree in our garden and lose myself in books like The Story of Doctor Dolittle and the Tarzan series. Reading about Tarzan swinging through the African jungle, I felt a powerful longing. I didn't want to marry Tarzan—I wanted to be him. I dreamed of living in Africa, among the animals, learning about their lives. Many people thought this was a silly dream for a young girl with little money, but my mother, Vanne, always told me, 'Jane, if you really want something, you'll have to work very hard, take advantage of your opportunities, and never give up.' Her words became my mantra.

My dream of Africa was a distant star, something I wasn't sure I could ever reach. After finishing school, I didn't have the money for university, so I took a course to become a secretary and worked various jobs, including as a waitress, saving every penny I could. My chance finally came in 1957 when a school friend invited me to visit her family's farm in Kenya. I worked tirelessly to save up for the boat fare and finally, at the age of twenty-three, I was on my way. Stepping onto the soil of Africa for the first time felt like coming home. The air smelled of earth and rain, and the vast landscapes were everything I had imagined. It was there, in Kenya, that my life took a turn I could have never predicted. On the advice of a friend, I made a telephone call to a man named Dr. Louis Leakey, a famous paleoanthropologist who was studying the origins of humankind at a museum in Nairobi. I was nervous, but I was also determined.

Dr. Leakey was impressed by my passion and my detailed knowledge of African wildlife, which I had learned entirely from books. He hired me to be his assistant, and I traveled with him and his wife, Mary, to Olduvai Gorge, a place rich with ancient fossils. Dr. Leakey had a revolutionary idea. He believed that by studying the behavior of our closest living relatives, the great apes, we could gain incredible insights into the lives of early human ancestors. For years, he had been searching for the right person to undertake a long-term study of wild chimpanzees in a remote forest in what was then called Tanganyika, now Tanzania. He needed someone with immense patience, an open mind, and a deep understanding of animals—not necessarily someone with a scientific degree. He saw those qualities in me. When he offered me the opportunity to go to Gombe Stream Chimpanzee Reserve and live among the chimpanzees, it was the moment my childhood dream became a breathtaking reality.

On July 14th, 1960, my mother Vanne and I arrived on the sandy shores of Lake Tanganyika, at the place that would become my home: Gombe. The British authorities at the time did not think it was safe for a young woman to live alone in the forest, so they insisted my mother accompany me for the first few months. The beginning was incredibly challenging. The chimpanzees had never been studied up close before and were very wary of me. For months, they would see me coming and simply disappear into the dense forest. I knew I couldn't rush things; I had to earn their trust. I spent my days climbing the steep hills, sitting quietly for hours, and letting them get used to my presence. Instead of giving them numbers, as was the scientific custom, I gave them names that suited their personalities: there was the calm and gentle David Greybeard, the ambitious Goliath, and the wonderful old matriarch, Flo, with her family.

My patience finally paid off. One day, I was looking through my binoculars when I saw David Greybeard, a chimp who was one of the first to tolerate my presence, doing something extraordinary. He was carefully selecting a long blade of grass, stripping its leaves, and pushing it into a hole in a termite mound. When he pulled it out, it was covered in termites, which he then ate. This was on November 4th, 1960. Later, I saw him use a leafy twig as a tool as well. This was a monumental discovery. At that time, scientists defined humans as 'Man the Toolmaker.' My observation proved that other animals made and used tools, too. When I sent my findings to Dr. Leakey, he famously responded, 'Now we must redefine tool, redefine Man, or accept chimpanzees as humans.' Over time, I was accepted into their community, and I learned about their complex social bonds, their long-lasting family relationships, their wars, and their capacity for compassion. They showed me that the line between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom was not nearly as sharp as we had believed.

After many years of living in the magical world of Gombe, my focus began to shift. In 1986, I attended a scientific conference that brought together chimpanzee experts from all over the world. I walked into the conference as a scientist, but I left as an activist. The presentations revealed the shocking truth: across Africa, chimpanzee populations were shrinking rapidly due to habitat destruction and the illegal commercial bushmeat trade. The forests I loved were being cut down, and the animals I had dedicated my life to were in grave danger. I knew I could no longer stay in Gombe, observing my beloved chimpanzees, while their world was disappearing. I had to use my voice to speak for them. In 1977, I had already established the Jane Goodall Institute to support the research at Gombe and expand our efforts in conservation and community-centered development in Africa. But now, I knew I had to do more.

I realized that to save chimpanzees, we had to help people and the environment as a whole. I also saw that the hope for the future lay in the hands of young people. This led me to create the Roots & Shoots program in 1991 with a small group of Tanzanian students. Its main message is that every single individual makes a difference every single day, and we have a choice as to what kind of difference we make. The program encourages young people to work on projects that help people, animals, and the environment. Today, I spend nearly all my time traveling the world, speaking about the threats facing our planet and inspiring hope. My message is simple: there is still time to heal the damage we have done, but we must act now. Your choices matter, your voice matters, and with hope in our hearts, we can create a better world for all living things.