For many years I have worked quietly in landscapes across South Africa, observing wild bees in the places they have always lived — mountain gorges, remote valleys, farms, deserts, forests, savanna, urban areas, and intact wild systems.

Over time, something became increasingly clear to me.

Wild bees do not fit comfortably within existing conservation frameworks. They are small, numerous, and deeply embedded in the fabric of living systems — too interconnected to be protected through conventional methods such as fencing, species management, or economic valuation.

Again and again, I found myself working not only with the bees, but within relationships — with farmers, landowners, communities, and institutions. In these spaces, I witnessed a recurring ethical tension: the dominant conservation model is built on control, intervention, and justification, while the lives of wild bees depend on autonomy, continuity, and freedom from disturbance.

The deeper my work went, the more I understood that wild bees do not need to be managed, studied invasively, or made economically valuable in order to deserve protection. What they require is something much simpler and much more profound: for humans to recognise their right to exist undisturbed.

From this realisation, the concept of guardianship naturally emerged.

The Ujubee Wild Bee Guardianship Charter is not a conservation tool in the traditional sense. It is a statement of ethical relationship — a framework that invites humans to stand in right relation with wild bees by protecting the conditions that allow them to live freely, rather than attempting to control or use them.

It represents a paradigm shift: from an industrialised model of conservation based on intervention, toward a cooperative relationship with the living world.

This charter therefore arises directly from lived experience — years of listening to landscapes, witnessing the lives of wild bees, and learning that true protection begins not with intervention or ownership, but with humility.

In this way, my work has never been about managing bees, but about learning how humans can stand beside them — as quiet guardians rather than controllers.