gorillas!

The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. Our last full day in Africa. Gorilla tracking day. We had been looking forward to this since we booked our permits in May. What a way to spend our last day. Now, we know we had said back in January, “Who knows when we’ll be here again?” But this time we mean it. It’s not a big secret that we’re trying to start our family this year (apologies to Harvey Bruce – expand our family). And despite the fact that one of our fellow trackers yesterday was a Dutch man who had just spent a year traveling through Africa with his wife and one year old daughter as part of a Lonely Planet project on traveling with young children, we’re thinking it’s truly going to be some time before we’re back.

Anyway, we were staying at the Kinigi guesthouse, high in the Rwanda mountains, just miles from the borders of the Democratic Republic of Congo to the West and Uganda to the North. It was a fairly simple operation at the guesthouse, but no one stayed there for the accommodations; everyone we met was there for one reason: gorillas. Of course these were the same gorilla families that Dian Fossey had made famous through her book (and eventual Hollywood film), “Gorillas in the Mist”. The permits are pricey and the philosophy that powers the operation (one which Fossey vehemently and understandably opposed) is that only through tourism dollars can the government protect these incredible creatures. Before the money was rolling in, the government (as well as the governments of Uganda and Congo) just couldn’t afford the manpower and resources needed to keep the poachers from killing the adults to sell their hands and feet in the local markets, or from kidnapping the babies to sell to zoos. Our guide told us that in order for the poachers to kidnap one baby, they have to shoot and kill ten to fifteen from the family. After seeing them, I just can’t imagine it. Gorillas share 98% of our genetic make-up; killing one would be like killing a dear relative, albeit a rather furry one…

I don’t know how many of you have seen Aimee when she is REALLLY excited, but it is a sight to behold. Aimee is not someone whom I’d call a morning person. But yesterday, as soon as that alarm sounded, she was in high gear. She sort of doesn’t know what to do with herself so she kind of buzzes all about the room, sometimes saying things in a voice that has to sort of squeaks through her constricted throat muscles. Often, the things she’s saying are not words that I recognize but rather unrecognizable patterns of tones and grunts that seem to signify excitement. Later, in the jungle, I recognized a few of those same grunts and groans coming from some of our primate cousins… At one point, on her way to the bathroom, she jumped on and off the bed for no apparent reason. At another point, she came over to me as I was packing and grabbed me in a bear hug. I have to remind her that she actually needs to get ready because her mind is going in so many different directions that nothing is really happening. While there is a lot of movement and energy, it’s sort of a spinning the wheels kind of thing. I should also mention that it is grand fun to see her in such a state…

She was still buzzing at breakfast and talking about how she hoped we would get in the Susa Group. There are about nine different families of gorillas on the volcanoes. Oh yeah, the mountains that they live on are all dormant volcanoes. All over the area, houses are built from volcanic rock. The river beds are lined with porous grey, dried lava. The paths up the mountain are littered with chunks of volcanic debris. Anyway, there are three groups of gorillas that are solely for research groups and restricted to tourists. Then there are nine groups open to tourism. There is a strict limit of eight permits granted per group per day. Each group is allowed just one hour with the family from the moment they find the group. When we were booking in May, the 14th of July (Vive la France!) was the only available day in the week, and we got the last two permits. Each permit is $500 so there weren’t a whole lot of scruffy, twenty-something backpackers here. In fact, we were among the youngest people on the trek. I’d say most people were in their forties and fifties… Anyway, the Susa group is the most famous of the families. For one, it is the largest. There are thirty-six gorillas in the family and four silverbacks. The other reason for their fame is the fact that twins were born to the family in 2004. It is the first recorded successful gorilla twin birth in history. Apparently it is very, very rare for twins to survive. Their birth was cause for great celebration in the country, and the President and his wife named them during the annual naming ceremony (called “Kwita Izina" in Rwandese). It was clear when we arrived at the Volcanoes Park Headquarters at 7 am that a lot of people wanted to be in the Susa group. Aimee and I, typically, were the last people to show up at the headquarters. We waited in line at the desk and eventually filled out our paperwork, showed our permits, and then went outside to mill about, talk to other travelers, and wait to see what happened next. There were wooden signs staked into the ground around the front lawn, each sign with the words painted, “VNP Welcomes You to (name of gorilla family) Group”. Next to each sign two guides in park ranger outfits were stationed. There were some group names we recognized. Group 13 is well-known for its friendly silverback. Pablo group is fairly well known. And of course, Susa. We met an American family from L.A. They really wanted to be in the Susa group. They tried going over to the Susa sign but were shooed away by the guides and told to wait for assignment by the officer in charge. So Aimee and I waited and watched. “Let go, Let God”, despite the cheesy bumper stickers, is a motto we travel by. So we just kind of smiled to one another and said it: Let Go, Let God. The officer in charge was randomly grabbing people and placing them in groups of eight and then asking them to follow him to one of the signs. We wondered how we would be chosen. Group after group was assigned. The mother in the American family went again to the Susa guides (note: honestly, only American travelers seem to be so pushy) and this time, the guide walked over and said something to the officer. I decided to stick close to the American woman because maybe the guide told the officer that she really wanted Susa. I figured that if I was in proximity, I could get us in. So the officer came over – there were only about three groups left, including Susa -- and asked the family how many. They said “four.” The officer had walked over with another couple so he said he needed two more. I raised my hand, holding up two fingers. Aimee raised her hand. He totally ignored us. He grabbed two other people and asked the group to walk with him. Aimee thought we had been chosen and started to walk with the group. Very disappointed I said, “Aimee, it’s not us.” We were bummed. But lo and behold, they were led to a different family! Not Susa. There were sixteen of us left on the lawn. Another group was rounded up. Again, we tried to get in but were ignored again. They went off and didn’t get Susa. There were only eight of us left and there was only Susa. We couldn’t believe it. Sure enough, the officer came over, rounded us up, and took us to Susa! We were ecstatic. Aimee was beside herself. She wanted to see those twins so badly... and as we stood at our welcome sign, we definitely sensed some Susa Envy.

Our group was interesting. An American trio: a couple in their early forties traveling with their female friend. The couple was tough. She was pretty high maintenance and kept nagging her husband about drinking enough water and putting on more sunscreen throughout the trek. He had done the trek in 1988 but had gained a little in the middle since and I thought several times that he was going to have a heat stroke or start vomiting, or both. He was beet red within minutes and I couldn’t believe he made it to the gorillas. Then there was a young guy from Seattle who was fit and very nice. There was Abbe, our Dutch friend. His wife and kid went home last month so he was solo. He was a bit chatty on the hike but a very friendly and likeable guy. Finally, there was a young Indian named Raghiv. Very sweet, very nice guy who miraculously showed up that morning and secured the one permit remaining due to a last-minute cancellation. Not only did he get a permit but he got the Susa group. What luck! But I knew Raghiv was not much of a hiker. The guides had told us that Susa was usually pretty far up the mountain and that we should be ready for quite a hike. When we arrived after a forty-five minute drive to the base of the mountain, the guides started handing out bamboo walking sticks to help us on the ascent. Raghiv asked what the sticks were for. I thought, “Hmmm… Has he ever hiked before?” Well, literally about five minutes into our 90 minute hike, Raghiv was on the ground. He sat down, dripping sweat, and needed to rest. I felt bad for him. The forty-something was in bad shape, too. He and his wife were already bickering about something. She said, “Chris, don’t be so pessimistic!” Then she yelled to the porter who was carrying her backpack, “John! I neeeed some waaater!!!” Oh boy.

But enough about our companions. I should mention that we were with two guides, a porter for whomever felt they needed a bag carried for them up the mountain, and several armed soldiers. The soldiers were there to protect us and to be on the lookout for poachers. They hiked all the way to the gorillas with us and then watched our bags as we spent our allotted one hour with the family. Before the tourists show up each day, a different group of trackers is already on the mountain tracking the families from the spot where they left them the day before. It can take several hours to find them. As we were driving to our jump off point, they still had not found them. We were traveling to a spot based on their last known whereabouts. Sometimes groups can be very close to the boundary of the forest. Let me explain. There are several different parking areas that the tourists are dropped at with the guides. From there, depending on the location, it can be a short, level walk to the boundary of the forest, or it can be a long, steep climb. Then, once you are inside the protected boundary, it can be a short or a long hike to reach the family. It is all totally random and based on where the gorillas happened to have nested the night before and where they happen to be that day. We spoke to one group of tourists the day before who got to the jump off, walked across the dirt road to the boundary and had a very short, twenty-minute walk across flat ground before finding their family. They were a bit disappointed. Of course, with everyone we spoke to, any disappointment over the nature of the hike dissipates quite quickly upon seeing the gorillas.

We were not disappointed at all. We had a real experience. Our hike felt like a 90 degree climb up the face of a mountain. It took about an hour from the cars to reach the boundary. We went fairly slowly to account for the folks who were struggling. But that was fine with us because it was easy to get winded at the altitude at which we climbing. The path went through the locals’ patches of farmland and it always feels a bit odd to be these rich, white tourists tramping through the countryside, passing shoeless peasants and their children working their land. To me, it’s uncomfortable but I think it’s the discomfort of actually having to face the gross inequities that I’m the beneficiary of. In America, too often, I think we are able to shield ourselves from those inequities a lot of the time. The unofficial, class-based zoning laws see to it that we don’t have to see what we don’t want to see. But here, there is no escape. One needs to recognize ones privilege and question that structure, question that set-up, ask why that is. And hopefully, ask how that can change. And also confront the survival instinct that wants to give… but just so much. Just enough that I’m still O.K., still living the way I’m accustomed to living. I recommend Wallace Shawn’s play, “The Fever” for a much more eloquent expression of this dilemma…

So we hike up this trail and finally get to the edge of the jungle. We rest for a moment and are told that the gorillas about another half-hour hike in. We enter. And we are in the jungle! We keep climbing upward through thick bamboo and thick, leafy foliage that the guides have to occasionally hack away with their machetes. Nettles grab at our arms and legs as we pass. With each step the jungle gets thicker. I’m not nervous but I am definitely excited. Aimee is visibly thrilled. She says her heart is pounding. Finally, the guide stops short and holds up his hand. He has been in radio contact with the mountain guides all morning and now he is talking to them again. We are standing in a clearing. All around us is thick growth that is almost impossible to see through. We are told to be still and stop talking. Then he tells us to move up and behind him, quickly! We hear the breaking of branches all around us. Crack! Crack! Everyone moves. We are told to remove our bags and leave our poles on the ground. Take out our cameras. As I am moving, I see him. A huge – I mean HUGE – silverback standing just behind the bamboo, eyeing us. He is massive but I only get a glimpse because the guide is telling us to move. Now the mountain guides come out from behind some branches, smiling. They point in and say something to our guide. The army is assigned to protect our bags. We are told to follow the guides and porters as they disappear into the bush. We do. As we walk, the guides make a very distinct gutteral sound, almost like they are clearing their throat. They say it’s the way to assure the gorillas that they are friends.

And there he is. One of the silverbacks. We can’t be more than six or seven feet away from his back. And he seems very deliberately to have decided to keep his back to us. His back is massive. I don’t even know how to describe it. He was just a mass of black muscle. Not far from him was a female, Poppy, the oldest gorilla of the family (gorilla lifespan – 40 -45 years). She was just chilling, chewing some bamboo sticks, casually checking us out. Now there was excitement but no fear. The gorillas went about their business, more or less unconcerned about us. The guides constantly checked in with them by making their throat noises. The silverback continued to “ignore” us so one of the guides called down from another spot and told us to come up. We were all to move as a group and we did. The jungle was thick and it was tough to walk but we came up to another spot where a female was sitting while a number of kids – including the toddler twins! – were playing. And they play! They were all wrestling and running around, swinging up on the bamboo poles. It was incredible. The children were running all around us, chasing each other through the jungle, mock-fighting, having a grand old time! Every once in a while we would be told to stand up straight because one of the silverbacks was approaching. Or a mother was approaching. Aimee and I were sometimes a few yards from one another and thus, saw completely different things. At one point, she later told me, she say one of the mamas carrying a pink little baby in her arms, cradling it in her arms. It was tiny. We found out later that the baby was just three weeks old and that it was very rare for a visitor to see. In fact, we never saw the baby or that mom for the rest of the hour.

Incidentally, Aimee always asks our guides about how the different animals birth. We found out that when a gorilla is giving birth, the other females make an inner circle around the mother-to-be and watch over her. The males form an outer circle facing outward as a wall of protection. If anything approaches, they charge. Our guide told us that he was bringing a group of tourists to see Susa when the males started charging them. He couldn’t figure out what was going on but sure enough, the twins were being born!

What to say? The hour was just incredible. The gorillas were at once with us and at the same time completely unconcerned with us. They allowed us into their world and it was one of the most spectacular things you could ever imagine. To look at their faces and into their eyes is like looking at a human being. The gorillas kept moving, climbing higher into the jungle and we kept following them – carefully. At one point we were on a small ridge. I think we were following one of the females. The group was kind of split in two (we were separated by about five feet or so) and the guide at the front of the line told us to stand up. We could see through the bush a huge silverback coming toward us from above. The group that I was in – the one lower on the ridge – heard a cracking from below and turned to see another silverback coming at us from below. We were in a precarious position. The guide at the top didn’t seem to know that there was another male below us. So we were getting different sets of messages from the two guides. The top guide was telling us to be still and the bottom one was telling us to move. I was third from the back. Behind me was the husband and wife. She was pushing me nervously: “Umm. Keep moving. Keep moving. He said to keep moving.” But I wasn’t scared. I wanted to see the silverback and he didn’t seem aggressive. The guide was relaxed and I knew he wasn’t scared. Again: “Keep moving. He said keep moving!” I had about had it with this one so I kind of snapped, “GO!” She hurried by me and I got to really look at this silverback as he moved by us.

Aimee was snapping away. She went through roll after roll of film. We were balancing wanting to take photos and then just being with the gorillas, without feeling the need to film. It was awesome to simply watch them. Unfortunately, we had left the roll of 400 in our bag because we thought the light would be too dark to film at such a slow speed. It was a bit of a blow to have run out of our good film at the end because the very last thing that happened was we came upon the dominant silverback – it was the first we had seen him – sitting in a nest of grass and bamboo. We must have been about three feet away from him. He just sat and ate making little grunts and snorts as he chomped his food. The guide said he was happy. He was enormous. His fingers were like large, black bananas. His head was like a watermelon. Above him a little baby swung on a bamboo pole. I snapped what I could with the digital but mostly we just wanted to be with them, to watch them and to see them. The guide told everyone to take their last snaps because the hour was up. We said thank you to the papa gorilla and then turned to go. We hiked back through the jungle and, on jelly legs, down the mountainside to the cars. I had a splitting headache at that point. The sun, the altitude, dehydration, adrenaline drop? I don’t know but both of us were totally spent and elated. It was about 1:15 p.m. We got in the jeep and went back to the hotel to pack and head back to Kigali.

So my computer battery is on 20% and we have about 10,000 francs in our pocket (US $20) and it is time to board the plane in a few hours. We are so sad to leave here. We love Africa. We’ve loved our time in Rwanda. We miss our friends in Gulu. And we also miss our friends and family. It’s time to come home.