A good way to understand the roots of Africa’s land dilemma is to drive through rural Sierra Leone or Liberia. Cratered dirt roads cut through what feels like limitless, untouched land: Stately palm trees and skinny rubber trees sway over miles of tall, tangled grasses. Along the road, people walk with the day’s laundry or firewood on their heads – moving, one assumes, from the cluster of mud huts that make up the village just behind to the cluster just ahead. But to the left and right of the road is what the colonists called “virgin forest.”

It isn’t, of course. And even a stranger should know better: A husky, sharp scent wafts over the road, like burning buttery popcorn: someone deep in the forest is making palm-kernel oil. Or, just a 100-foot trudge off the road, through shoulder-high elephant grass, the sounds of what’s hidden can be heard: Rice farmers splash through swampland as they harvest; cassava growers sing to themselves as they slash through last year’s tangled weeds readying the ground for this year’s crop. Deep in the woods that seem wild and untouched to outsiders, people live and work as they have for hundreds if not thousands of years.

“In Africa, most of the population has no documents. They believe they own the land as a group because they have been there for millennia,” says John Unruh, a land tenure expert at McGill University in Montreal. “Their mythology about how they came into the world involves that specific location, so identity is often very much tied up in where groups want access.”

But often outsiders didn’t know – or just ignored – this. When European powers sliced up the continent in the late 19th century, they thought of Africa as an empty mass free for the taking. Colonial rulers brought along the notion of private property. Suddenly, the land system changed. In the old system, an entire community owned land, managed by the elders. With the advent of private property, history meant nothing next to paperwork: Title to land trumped tradition. But as is often the case with indigenous groups around the world – including in the United States – those who walked away with legal deeds for the land and those who lived and worked on those lands for generations were usually not the same people.

That’s just part of Jina Moore’s epic and important story about land conflict in Africa. Last October, Jina and I spent about two weeks driving through rural Liberia with support from the Pulitzer Center for Crisis Reporting. Read Jina’s feature story, and a sidebar about an extended family feud, watch an audio slideshow we worked on about land conflict resolution, and check out the photos I took on the CSM site – with extras posted here, as always. I love the photo they used on the cover of the magazine, but it isn’t online so I’ve posted the cover above.