Editor's Note: (Tim Spector is professor of genetic epidemiology at King's College London. The views expressed in this commentary are solely those of the writer. CNN is showcasing the work of The Conversation, a collaboration between journalists and academics to provide news analysis and commentary. The content is produced solely by The Conversation.)
(CNN) Mounting evidence suggests that the richer and more diverse the community of microbes in your gut the lower your risk of disease. Diet is key to maintaining diversity and was strikingly demonstrated when an undergrad student went on a McDonald's diet for ten days and after just four days experienced a significant drop in the number of beneficial microbes.
Similar results have been demonstrated in a number of larger human and animal studies.
Your gut microbiome is a vast community of trillions of bacteria that has a major influence on your metabolism, immune system and mood. These bacteria and fungi inhabit every nook and cranny of your gastrointestinal tract, with most of this 1kg to 2kg "microbe organ" sited in your colon (the main bit of your large intestine).
We tend to see the biggest diet-related shifts in microbes in people who are unhealthy with a low-diversity unstable microbiome. What we didn't know is whether a healthy stable gut microbiome could be improved in just a few days. The chance to test this in an unusual way came when my colleague Jeff Leach invited me on a field trip to Tanzania, where he has been living and working among the Hadza, one of the last remaining hunter-gatherer groups in all of Africa.
A Hadza man hunting with bow and arrow, Lake Eyasi, Tanzania.
My microbiome is pretty healthy nowadays and, among the first hundred samples we tested as part of the MapMyGut project, I had the best gut diversity -- our best overall measure of gut health, reflecting the number and richness of different species. High diversity is associated with a low risk of obesity and many diseases. The Hadza have a diversity that is one of the richest on the planet.
The research plan was devised by Jeff who suggested I should have an intensive three days of eating like a hunter gatherer during my stay at his research camp. I would measure my gut microbes before heading to Tanzania, during my stay with the Hadza, and after my return to the UK. I was also not allowed to wash or use alcohol swabs and I was expected to hunt and forage with the Hadza as much as possible -- including coming in contact with the odd Hadza baby and baboon poo lying about.
To help us record the trip I was accompanied by Dan Saladino, the intrepid presenter and producer of BBC Radio 4's The Food Programme, who was preparing a Hadza microbe special.
After a long tiring flight to Mount Kilimanjaro Airport in Tanzania, we stayed overnight in Arusha, a city in the north of the country. Before setting off the next morning, I produced my baseline poo sample.
After an eight-hour journey in a Land Rover over bumpy tracks, we arrived. Jeff beckoned us to the top of a huge rock to witness the most amazing sunset over Lake Eyasi. Here, within a stones throw of the famous fossil site of Olduvai Gorge and with the stunning plains of the Serengeti in the distance, Jeff explained that we were never going to be closer to home as a member of the genus Homo, than where we were standing at that moment.
The million-year-old diet
The Hadza seek out the same animals and plants that humans have hunted and gathered for millions of years. Importantly, the human-microbe tango that played out here for aeons probably shaped aspects of our immune system and made us who we are today. The significance of being in Hadza-land was not lost on me.
Unlike the Hadza, who sleep around the fire or in grass huts, I was given a tent and told to zip it up tight as there were scorpions and snakes about. I had to be careful where I stepped if I needed a nocturnal pee. After an interesting but restless night's sleep, a large pile of baobab pods had been collected for my breakfast.
At the end of the rainy season near Lake Chad, northern Niger, Wodaabe people come together for Cure Salee, the "Festival of Nomads." At the center of celebrations is Gerewol, a male beauty contest and courtship ritual. Young men -- traditionally herdsmen -- wear full makeup, jewelry and their finest clothes and stand in line to await inspection by female onlookers. White teeth and white eyes are highly prized, so participants will grin broadly and pull all manner of expressions in the hope of attracting attention. It's flirtation en masse, in the hope of winning a night of passion with one of the judges.
Circular lip plates called
dhebi a tugion are worn by some Mursi women near Jinka in Ethiopia's Omo Valley. They are one of the few tribes that continue the practice in East Africa, but archaeologists have discovered lip plates in the region stretching back 30,000 years, says anthropologist Dr Jerome Lewis of University College London. "It's a body modification that people find beautiful," he says. "It's also very striking and a distinctive way of marking your difference from other people around you."
The bottom lip is pierced with a wooden peg inserted, which is replaced with larger pegs thereafter. Once the hole is big enough the first of a succession of ornamental ceramic saucers are inserted, stretching it over a period of years -- one example from the neighboring Surma tribe measured
19.5cm wide.
Women of the semi-nomadic
Himba tribe in northern Namibia are famous for their reddish hair and complexion. It's the result of
otjize, a paste of butter, fat and red ocher, applied daily to their hair and skin. It was once speculated that the
otjize served as a form of sun protection and to ward off insects, however the women say it's purely for aesthetic reasons -- which makes sense, given that Himba men don't take part in the practice.
Herdsmen become hurdlers in the Omo Valley, Ethiopia. Young men of the Hamar tribe, one of many in the valley, prove their manhood by jumping on prize bulls and then running across their backs -- all while naked. The purpose? It's a coming of age ceremony, and only when the participant has traversed the bull run four times will he be allowed to marry. Slip and you risk a hard fall: "Because it's a manhood initiation ritual, [failure] is likely to affect the perception of someone's manhood and that of course can have all sorts of dire consequence," adds Dr Lewis.
In Eastern Cape, South Africa, young Xhosa men take part in a coming of age initiation called
Ulwaluko. The youths, known as
abakhwetha, are first circumcised without anesthetic, before being sent away from their village and into the bush, with minimal supplies and wrapped in a blanket. Wearing white clay on their faces, initiates will fend for themselves for up to two months, living in a structure built by the village's adult community specifically for
Ulwaluko. Upon their return they are no longer referred to as "boy" and receive a new blanket. The initiation has not been without its criticisms, due to
complications and malpractice surrounding the circumcision process.
Women of the Chewa tribe may not be quite on equal footing as men, but they do hold the key to one thing: inheritance. Descent and succession for the Bantu-speaking tribe, spread across Zambia, Zimbabwe, Malawi and Mozambique, is matrilineal, with property and land inherited from their mothers. "Although inheritance passes down the female line, which definitely gives women more power in society, it's still male-dominated and patriarchal in the sense that men are still at the apex of power," explains Lewis. "People have an assumption that matrilineal societies are somehow favorable to women -- and they are certainly more favorable than some of the extreme patrilineal societies -- but they're not societies that give women equal power."
One thing Chewa women are shut out of is the
Nyau brotherhood (pictured), a secretive society who can channel spirits and performs a ritual dance called
Gule Wamkulu around harvest and at weddings and funeral.
Spittle is an essential part of life for the Maasai of East Africa, as it acts as a blessing. "People have different views about where the power and essence of somebody resides," explains Lewis. For some, "spit represents an essence of you as a person."
To spit is "a way of blessing people by giving something of yourself; your own power to someone else." It starts at an early age, when newborn babies are spat on to wish them a good life. "If you leave a place, elders will come and spit on your head in order to bless your departure, and that whatever you do you're safe and kept well," adds Lewis.
The San of South Africa, Botswana, Angola and Namibia are, according to some researchers,
the world's oldest people. Their hunter-gatherer culture stretches back tens of thousands of years, and integral to it is the trance dance, also known as the healing dance. Historically an all-night affair, the practice brings the whole community together, led by healers and elders dancing around a fire, chanting and breathing deeply until they induce a trance state. It offers the chance to commune with ancestral spirits of the departed and for healers, cure sickness within other dancers.
Lewis says that this tradition is under threat: "In some places in southern Africa the San now perform their traditional culture exclusively for tourists, because they've been forced out of all their territories as hunter-gatherers by conservationist organizations. This means that by extension... these performances are not the original initiations but a facsimile of them."
A feature of marital affairs for many Bantu-speaking tribes in South Africa, Zimbabwe and Swaziland,
lobola is practiced by, among others, Zulus (pictured).
Lobola is also referred to as "bridalwealth", with the prospective groom's family negotiating with the bride's for her hand in marriage. The dowry comes in many forms, including money, but some choose cattle. There were
reports in 1998 that Nelson Mandela (of Thembu lineage) paid the marital
lobola of 60 cows to the family of new wife Graca Machel.
"It's the cause of much conflict," says Lewis, "because in order for a man to get married he must provide often quite a substantial head of cattle, and so he's in indentured labor to his father until the herd he's caring for is big enough." In societies that are cattle based, men tend to marry in their mid-forties, he adds, explaining that "there's always a backlog of women who are available but unable to marry" because men of a similar age have not yet raised the required bridalwealth.
Tuaregs are the only tribal communities in which
men wear veils instead of women. The tangelmust, a wrapped headdress up to eight meters in length, is ubiquitous among the "blue men of the desert." The name does not allude to the muslin headdress, dyed with indigo, but rather because the dye gradually leeches out into the skin of the wearer. Tuaregs use the tangelmust for practical reasons: it protects from the sun and sand, but men will still wear them at night, and even during meals. Men cover their faces with the tangelmust in front of strangers and women, while women are free to show their face.
Every June or July in the Omo Valley, Ethiopia, the
Ka'el -- the Bodi lunar new year -- takes place. With it comes an extraordinary show of pageantry. In the months before the event men live in isolation and drink to excess
a mixture of cow milk and cow blood for months in order to become vastly bloated and overweight. Each clan will then present an unmarried male to compete for the title of fattest man -- and with the glory, the greater chance of finding a wife. With stomachs swollen, balance and fatigue can be an issue, but once the event is over, contestants return to their normal size in a matter of weeks.
"It's important to remember that tradition doesn't mean 'the same'," says Lewis, "cultures will adapt and add elements all the time." A perfect example of this is the Dassanech tribe, another group found in Ethiopia's Omo Valley on the border with Kenya. Rubbish of all manner, but particularly bottle tops, have begun to be recycled by Dassanech women, who weave the metal caps into vibrant jangly headdresses. Other women have adapted
broken watches and trinkets for similar purposes -- and a sure fire way of getting yourself noticed.
The baobab fruit is the staple of the Hadza diet, packed with vitamins, fat in the seeds, and, of course, significant amounts of fibre. We were surrounded by baobab trees stretching in the distance as far as I could see. Baobab fruit have a hard coconut-like shell that cracks easily to reveal a chalky flesh around a large, fat-rich seed. The high levels of vitamin C provided an unexpected citrus tang.
The Hadza mixed the chalky bits with water and whisked it vigorously for two to three minutes with a stick until it was a thick, milky porridge that was filtered -- somewhat -- into a mug for my breakfast. It was surprisingly pleasant and refreshing. As I wasn't sure what else I would be eating on my first day, I drank two mugs and suddenly felt very full.
My next snacks were the wild berries on many of the trees surrounding the camp -- the commonest were small Kongorobi berries. These refreshing and slightly sweet berries have 20 times the fibre and polyphenols compared with cultivated berries -- powerful fuel for my gut microbiome. I had a late lunch of a few high-fibre tubers dug up with a sharp stick by the female foragers and tossed on the fire. These were more effort to eat - like tough, earthy celery. I didn't go for seconds or feel hungry, probably because of my high-fibre breakfast. No one seemed concerned about dinner.
Hadza woman and child sitting at a fire, Lake Eyasi, Tanzania.
A few hours later we were asked to join a hunting party to track down porcupine -- a rare delicacy. Even Jeff hadn't tasted this creature in his four years of field work.
Two 20kg nocturnal porcupines had been tracked to their tunnel system in a termite mound. After several hours of digging and tunnelling -- carefully avoiding the razor-sharp spines -- two porcupines were eventually speared and thrown to the surface. A fire was lit. The spines, skin and valuable organs were expertly dissected and the heart, lung and liver cooked and eaten straight away.
The rest of the fatty carcass was taken back to camp for communal eating. It tasted much like suckling pig. We had a similar menu the next two days, with the main dishes including hyrax -- a strange furry guinea-pig-like hoofed animal, weighing about 4kg -- a relative of the elephant, of all creatures.
Harvested high from a baobab tree, our dessert was the best golden orange honey I could ever imagine -- with the bonus of honeycomb full of fat and protein from the larvae. The combination of fat and sugars made our dessert the most energy-dense food found anywhere in nature and may have competed with fire in terms of its evolutionary importance.
In Hadza-land nothing is wasted or killed unnecessarily, but they eat an amazing variety of plant and animal species (around 600, most of which are birds) compared with us in the West. My other lasting impression was how little time they spent getting food. It appeared as though it took just a few hours a day -- as simple as going round a large supermarket. Any direction you walked there was food -- above, on and below ground.
Massive increase in microbiome diversity
Twenty-four hours later Dan and I were back in London, him with his precious audio tapes and me with my cherished poo samples. After producing a few more, I sent them to the lab for testing.
The results showed clear differences between my starting sample and after three days of my forager diet. The good news was my gut microbal diversity increased a stunning 20%, including some totally novel African microbes, such as those of the phylum Synergistetes.
The bad news was, after a few days, my gut microbes had virtually returned to where they were before the trip. But we had learnt something important. However good your diet and gut health, it is not nearly as good as our ancestors'. Everyone should make the effort to improve their gut health by re-wilding their diet and lifestyle. Being more adventurous in your normal cuisine plus reconnecting with nature and its associated microbial life, may be what we all need.
Jeff Leach, visiting research fellow at King's College London, contributed to this article.