Toti decides who gets to eat what

Uganda | Anno 2016

 

Thursday 14 July | Murchison Falls National Park – Papaya Lake

Friday 15 July | Kibale Forest National Park

Saturday 16 July | Papaya Lake

 

 

Thursday 14 July | Murchison Falls National Park – Papaya Lake

With a hint of nostalgia, we leave behind the abundant wildlife of Murchison Falls National Park. Today, our destination is the surroundings of Kibale Forest National Park, home to the largest chimpanzee population in Uganda. It's going to be a tough ride, covering over 320 km on unpaved roads.

It's drizzling a bit. Gradually, the rain starts to intensify. Just before nine, we arrive at the barrier of the Paraa Ferry¹⁾. The water of the mighty Victoria Nile flows past us slowly and smoothly, like a silver mirror, about 200 meters wide. We find ourselves approximately 700 meters above sea level.

 

Paraa Ferry

As the very last vehicles, our jeeps board the ferry. That makes a total of eight vehicles, and the ferry is fully loaded. We're now heading southwest, towards Butiaba on the shores of Lake Albert. We exit the park through Bugungu Gate. Soon the inhabited world begins to emerge. Grey, round huts with conical roofs made of dried grass appear along the road.

 

 

Meanwhile, it has started pouring rain. Over time, the narrow dirt road turns into a muddy track. Our drivers, Richard and David, are busy keeping the jeeps on the road. Motorcycles sometimes struggle to stay upright, and a van has already gotten stuck in the mud off the road.

Plantations of cassava remind us of how important this plant has become for local food supply. The Portuguese imported the tuber from Brazil around 1600. Even in very poor soil, the robust plant thrives, hardly affected by locust plagues or prolonged periods of drought.

Another advantage is that the root can be harvested all year round. However, once harvested, it must be processed within two days. Moreover, the dangerous cyanide must be removed. This is done by peeling, grating, drying, and pulverizing the roots into flour. The leaves of the plant are then used to make sauces.

 

Ankole cattle

The procession of long-horned cattle grazing beside the road seems endless. There must be hundreds of them. Calling these animals long-horned is almost an understatement because some individuals carry horns on their heads that defy imagination. The span of these horns in adult males can reach up to two and a half meters. These cattle are called Ankole.

With those oversized horns, they defend themselves if necessary against predators. But the horns have another, equally important function – cooling. A honeycomb structure of tiny blood vessels in the horns facilitates this.

 

Towards the edge of the Great Rift Valley

Just after eleven, we reach Bukumi, just a few kilometers from Butiaba, once an important transit port on the shores of Lake Albert. But it's also the place where Hemingway had his second plane crash in twenty-four hours, on 23 January 1954.

 

 

Slowly we climb out of the Great Rift Valley via a winding route – a height difference of about 300 meters. A strip of asphalt has been laid on the road, which isn't even that steep. It looks worn out, but it serves its purpose well. During rain, most vehicles would have no chance on a slippery mud track. Gradually, the vast Lake Albert becomes visible in the distance.

Nothing human is foreign to them – it seems like they're waiting for the bus

Olive baboon

At the top of the plateau, we once again get a sandy track beneath our wheels. Two olive baboons sit on the edge of the road. They seem to exhibit human-like behaviour – it's as if they're waiting for the bus.

 

 

The excellent sandy track tirelessly winds its way through the hills, past picturesque villages, alongside modest huts, and beyond humble fields. There's hardly any motorized traffic, but pedestrians abound. Beautifully adorned women gracefully stroll under the load on their heads toward a small market. They're busy in the fields too. Both women and men swing their hoes with routine precision.

 

 

Shortly after twelve, we arrive in Kigorobya. The settlement isn't very large, but its impressive brick church leaves an impression. Apparently, there's still strong competition between religions here.

 

African marabou stork

Then suddenly, a roundabout appears. Civilization must be nearby. However, it's a few marabou storks that welcome us on the outskirts of the city. It's not surprising, as these scavengers like to hang around humans and their garbage dumps. They're standing in the grass beside the road, scavenging for food. They won't win any beauty contests with their grey and pink-spotted heads, hairy throat pouches, and their necks stiffly retracted between their shoulders.

 

 

A wide, comfortable asphalt road now leads us into Hoima, the capital of the Bunyoro kingdom. We waste no time and immediately settle down in the garden of the Hoima Kolping Hotel for a picnic.

 

 

We still have over 220 km ahead of us. Richard jokingly describes the upcoming route as the African Massage Road. Bumping and jostling, we navigate through the hills. In the jeeps it gets increasingly sunny and warm. Trucks kick up thick clouds of dust as they pass through the villages.

 

 

It's half past three when we take a break in Kyeya, approximately 74 km south of Hoima. That's an average of 45 kilometres per hour, which is definitely not bad on these gravel roads.

 

Kyeya – School

At the local elementary school, it's just recess time. This attracts a lot of attention. Curiously, the students gather in their pink shirts and dark pants or aprons behind the barbed wire. Smiling, subdued, excited, sometimes challenging, they gaze at the strange white people. They scatter with shouts of excitement when the first cameras are pointed at them.

 

 

Through lush greenery that dominates everything, we continue our journey. Unpaved roads transition into paved ones and vice versa without any apparent reason, although the unpaved stretches far outnumber the paved ones. Here and there, the rains have created large mud puddles.

We weave our way through hills, sometimes climbing, sometimes descending. Often straightforward, occasionally with a bit of winding. The road unfolds before us like a pale red ribbon over the hills, with lively silhouettes of people in the distance, all on their way somewhere.

 

 

Everywhere is bustling with life. Colourfully dressed women effortlessly carry loads on their heads. Motorbikes groan under the weight of three to four adults. Bicycles are pushed by foot as cargo vehicles, heavily laden with jute sacks or stacks of wood. Groups of children in uniforms chatter as they return home from school.

You hardly see any cars. When they are around, it's necessary to be cautious because for most people, traffic rules are secondary. Not so for Richard and David, who navigate flawlessly with their defensive driving style.

 

 

The hills become more prominent now. There are hardly any huts along the road anymore. Brick houses seem to be the norm here.

A solitary road leads us through a patch of uninhabited rainforest. High up in a tree, barely visible among the foliage, Richard points out two black-and-white colobuses. Despite being behind the wheel for almost twelve hours, there's still little that escapes his eagle eyes.

Despite being black-and-white, these monkeys are colourful creatures. They wear a mantle of long white hairs that fringe against their black fur. Their bald, black faces seem to be surrounded by a white ring beard. Their lush black head hair looks like a wig. Their tail can grow to almost a meter in length, culminating in an impressive white tail tuft.

 

Black-and-white colobuses

However, evolution has not been kind to the colobus. Its thumb is underdeveloped, hence its scientific name colobus, derived from the Greek word κολοβός meaning mutilated. Swinging from tree to tree becomes more challenging as a result. Interestingly, the colobus primarily lives in trees, and three-quarters of its diet consists of leaves. When chased by chimpanzees through the treetops, it stands little chance.

Swinging from tree to tree becomes more challenging as a result

The landscape unfolds again, revealing vast tea plantations. Here, we are at about 1,400 meters above sea level. This altitude is not high enough for good tea quality. Therefore, tea export is limited to South Sudan, Kenya, Ethiopia, Tanzania, and Congo – specifically the DRC, the Democratic Republic of Congo, or the former Zaire.

 

 

Still, children in school uniforms are on their way home. Some of them might spend hours commuting back and forth to school.

Just after half past six, we reach the broad, asphalted A109 in Kyenjojo. That’s a relief. We swiftly head westward to Fort Portal.

Tea fields continue to line our route. Sitting on the warm asphalt must be pleasant, if we are to believe the baboons reluctantly making way for our jeeps. In the far west, the sun gradually sinks behind the hills.

Suddenly, Richard turns left onto an unpaved road. This is the main entrance of Kiko Tea Estate. Is a visit to a tea plantation still on the agenda at this late hour?

 

Tea plantations

Through the tea plantations, we continue our journey. The tea bushes are surprisingly small, not reaching higher than hip-height. A small settlement emerges, likely housing blocks for the tea pickers and their families. They appear well-maintained and quite comfortable.

Apparently, this detour was nothing more than a shortcut, as we find ourselves back on the main road after barely fifteen minutes, much to our relief. Not only has Richard avoided the busy Fort Portal, but he has also shortened our journey by ten kilometres.

The enjoyment lasts barely ten minutes. In Kasiisi, we once again plunge into a narrow, unpaved road in complete darkness. Apparently, it's under renovation. Piles of sand are scattered around, taking up half of the road. Vehicles can barely pass each other, and there is no form of lighting.

Describing the road as needing renovation is an understatement. The jeeps wobble their way through the pockmarked course. The beams of the headlights whimsically sway back and forth through the darkness. Occasionally, they briefly illuminate pedestrians, cyclists, and motorcyclists struggling through the potholes. A moment later, they disappear again, swallowed by the darkness. A few huts appear alongside the dusty road, perhaps a small village.

Again Richard remains unfazed. Yet another turn leads us into a darker tunnel of green that envelops the jeep from all sides. Not even a motorcycle can pass us here. Any sense of orientation is shaken out of our brains. For a moment, we catch a glimpse of moonlight shimmering on a nearby lake to our left.

Then, out of nowhere, a tall gate emerges. It swings open, guards welcome us – this is Papaya Lake Lodge. It's twenty minutes to eight, and Richard and David have been behind the wheel for nearly fourteen hours. Within the tiny enclosure, they can barely park their jeeps.

The lodge sits on a ridge steeply sloping towards Lake Lyantonde. It's the life's work of two Poles, Magdalena and Sebastian. Together with the local community, they've built eight cottages on stilts here. It hasn't been easy. They have experienced hardship, they lived on the edge of poverty for some time. But now, things seem to be going better.

Armed with flashlights, we descend laboriously in the darkness down the stone steps towards the cottages, following our porters who almost seem to float over the sloping path.

 

 

The rooms are spacious and very comfortable, constructed entirely from natural materials. The only thing missing are electrical outlets – a deliberate choice for safety reasons.

Suddenly, completely unexpectedly, a man emerges from the darkness

An excellent four-course menu crowns the day's work. Satisfied, we return to our beds, feeling slightly more confident than earlier. Suddenly, completely unexpectedly, a man emerges from the darkness. It's the night watchman, who will keep watch here until morning and then promptly light the fire in the stone heater, ensuring we have hot water.

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Friday 15 July | Kibale Forest National Park

Seventy-seven dead. Even deep in the bush, the sad news of the massacre in Nice, yesterday on the French national holiday, reaches us. A damper on the mood, not exactly the ideal start for one of the highlights of the trip.

Just after half past six, we set out in the twilight. Even at this early hour, children in uniform are already on their way to school. Adults cycle listlessly to work or hitch ride in the bed of a large truck.

Chimpanzees, that's what you come to Kibale Forest National Park for. This national park boasts the largest population of chimpanzees in Uganda. This is not unfamiliar territory for Richard. He began working here in 1991 when he was just seventeen. The project aimed to habituate chimpanzees to human presence so that commercially operated chimpanzee treks could be made possible.

It was quite tough work, he sighs. Initially, the chimpanzees would flee as soon as people approached. Before you knew it, they were half a kilometre away. Trying to track them down in the dense jungle was quite a task.

Once the chimpanzees somewhat tolerated human presence, it was all about observing and taking notes all day long. A bit like the legendary Jane Goodall did from the sixties onwards in Tanzania.

 

 

In the evening, as the chimpanzees began to build their nests high in the trees, they returned to their camp. They would then venture back into the forest early the next day, before the chimpanzees left their nests.

In 1995, they hired Richard as a park ranger. He stayed there for fourteen years. After that, he became a driver-guide. We consider ourselves fortunate for that.

Just after half past seven, we reach the Kanyanchu Visitor Centre. About thirty enthusiasts have turned up for the treks, often equipped with monstrous telephoto lenses.

At eight o'clock sharp, the briefing begins. We learn that Kibale was only granted national park status in 1993; before that, it was a reserve. It covers 795 km² and ranges in elevation from 1,110 meters above sea level in the north to 1,590 meters in the south.

You'll primarily find primates here. It's not an exaggeration to call the park the primate capital of the world. Not only do you encounter the most primate species here, but the density of each species is also higher than anywhere else. Nine species are active during the day, and four at night. Furthermore, you can find 70 species of mammals, 320 species of birds, 250 species of butterflies, 20 species of reptiles, and so on.

But of course, it's the chimpanzees that got us out of bed so early. There are 1,450 of them here – about a quarter of Uganda's population.

They certainly won't be inviting us to morning tea

Chimpanzees live in communities and are strongly territorial. Ten to thirteen communities are present in Kibale. Three of them have been habituated to humans – one for tourism and two for research. Additionally, there are two communities in training.

Kanyatali is the name of the group habituated to tourists. There are approximately 120 individuals spread over an area of 25 to 30 km². However, you will never see them all together. Typically, they stay in separate, smaller groups.

Whether we will actually see chimpanzees is the burning question on everyone's lips. There are no guarantees, we are told. Chimpanzees remain wild animals, and they certainly won't be inviting us to morning tea.

However, the chances of success are estimated at 90%. But even that is relative. Perhaps we'll spot the chimpanzees within an hour, or maybe it will take several hours of trudging through the forest before we find them. Maybe we'll see dozens of animals, or maybe we won't see any at all. Maybe they'll be close to us, or maybe they'll be high up in the trees.

Although chimpanzees are wild animals, we must respect certain rules of conduct when we are near them. Eating or drinking is not allowed. Touching them or making eye contact is also prohibited – especially the latter, as they perceive it as very aggressive. And using flashes while taking photos is one of the worst things you can do to them.

Chimpanzees, along with bonobos, are genetically closest to humans – 99% of their DNA is shared. Therefore, we must keep our distance, as diseases can easily be transmitted. We are not allowed to approach the animals closer than eight meters. Furthermore, anyone with the flu or diarrhoea is not permitted to join the trek. However, it seems unrealistic to effectively enforce this rule.

Nonchalantly, she carries a rifle on her shoulder

In groups of six, we set out. Prussy is our guide. Nonchalantly, she carries a rifle on her shoulder. This will be used if necessary to deter elephants if they show too much interest. Pasco brings up the rear as the intern.

A relatively comfortable trail leads us through the forest. The low sun casts white beams between the dark trees. Only the sounds of the forest and our footsteps break the silence. Occasionally, a boardwalk takes us over a dried-up pool.

Prussy doesn't yet know where the chimpanzees are. The path becomes rougher and steeper. Gradually, there is no longer a path, and we climb up the slope through the thickets. Branches and dry leaves crunch under our feet. High in the trees, Prussy points out a chimpanzee nest.

 

Chimpanzee nest

While we take a brief pause, news comes in via the walkie-talkie. Turns out, we're completely off track; the chimpanzees are on the other side. We descend back to the trail, follow it for a while, and then dive into the bushes again.

Suddenly, a deafening whaawhaawhaa echoes through the forest for a prolonged period. The chimpanzees have spotted us, but we haven't seen them yet. Excitedly, we push through the bushes, following Prussy. On the right, another group of tourists appears; evidently, everyone is converging toward one point.

Then, it seems like a heavy mass falls from the sky. Branches crackle as they break above our heads, about twenty meters ahead. It's a chimpanzee, plummeting down from great height with a lot of noise. With great agility, it swiftly makes its way through the bushes. We follow, with slightly less ease.

 

Taboo, Toti, and Mister Black

It doesn't take long before we encounter three chimpanzees. They are sitting calmly among the ferns and bushes, enjoying a piece of meat as breakfast – the remains of a black-and-white colobus, according to Prussy. The fact that chimpanzees eat meat was one of the most remarkable findings of Jane Goodall at the time and remains a rare occurrence.

To catch a colobus, chimpanzees must organize a cooperative hunt

To catch a colobus, chimpanzees must organize a cooperative hunt. First, some chimpanzees drive the colobus through the treetops, while others wait below. Once the colobus appears, they easily knock it out of the tree – a colobus monkey weighs at most 20 kg, while a chimpanzee weighs three times as much. Other chimpanzees below are ready to finish the job.

Actually, chimpanzees prefer the meat of red colobus monkeys, but they are much more aggressive and can bite fiercely. Catching a black-and-white colobus, that's something a half dozen chimpanzees can easily manage. By contrast, catching a red colobus requires about ten to fifteen chimpanzees. And even then, it's still a dangerous endeavour.

 

Enfuzi, Toti, Taboo, and Mister Black

Meanwhile, a fourth chimpanzee has joined our trio. But it's the dominant male, Toti, who firmly holds the prize, while the other three look on hopefully. It’s Toti who decides who gets to eat what.

It’s Toti who decides who gets to eat what

Enfuzi, Mister Black, Toti, and Taboo

Prussy doesn't rule out that Toti will become the new leader of the group. The current alpha male, Mangesi – which means wisdom – hasn't been seen for two to three weeks. This isn't unusual; he's probably elsewhere with part of the group due to food scarcity this season, forcing the group to spread out over a larger area. But Prussy isn't so sure if Mangesi's leadership will still be undisputed after such a long absence.

 

Taboo

In any case, the four chimpanzees couldn't care less about our presence. They calmly continue eating while their gazes wander through the bushes. Occasionally, Taboo – the chimpanzee with the white beard – and Mister Black receive a bite from Toti. But Enfuzi is systematically ignored and remains hungry.

The unfortunate colobus monkey's head is missing

However, Prussy suspects that there must be a fifth chimpanzee involved. Because the unfortunate colobus monkey's head is missing. Presumably, number five has taken it and is now secretly enjoying that delicacy somewhere.

 

Toti and Taboo

The chimpanzees regularly pluck leaves from the bushes and put them in their mouths, which aids digestion. Occasionally, they move a bit. Promptly, Enfuzi sniffs among the leaves where they have been sitting, hoping to find leftover meat there. It's a futile effort; Enfuzi resigns itself to its fate.

 

Taboo

In the wild, chimpanzees live up to 55 years, Prussy whispers. Every evening, they make a new nest high in the trees to sleep until about six in the morning. They mostly eat fruits, preferably figs, but apparently also leaves and even meat.

 

Toti and Taboo breakfast together

If a female is in heat, it will mate with every sexually mature male in the group, even if there are a dozen or more. It's not a difficult task, Prussy says, because on average copulation lasts only nine seconds.

If a female is in heat, it will mate with every sexually mature male in the group, even if there are a dozen or more

Taboo with ribcage of colobus

All males are then convinced that the baby is theirs, and they will feel responsible for it. They will also provide extra care for the female as long as she is pregnant. The gestation period lasts eight months and almost always results in one baby. Twins are extremely rare.

 

Toti with tail of colobus

Meanwhile, Toti and Taboo have separated from the others. Sitting quietly together, just a mere two meters away from us, they are nibbling away. We could practically reach out and touch them. All that remains of the colobus is its bloody spine and ribs. It's being completely devoured, except for its fur. Even the tail is expertly handled by Toti.

 

 

 

Decisively, Prussy leads us away from the scene. It's ten past ten, our one-hour time window has expired. The spell is broken, and the groups return to the visitor centre chatting away, their trophies stored on magnetic cards.

David's brother appears there. Immediately, he expresses his condolences. In Uganda, family clans are associated with a particular animal, he explains. For both brothers' clan, that animal is the black-and-white colobus. They are far from pleased about the fate of the colobus.

It turns into an early picnic lunch because it's not even eleven o'clock yet. We owe this to the chimpanzees who were too easily located. Spicy vegetarian balls with tabbouleh appear on the table, but at this hour of the day, it's a bit too much.

They're not exactly Mother Nature's finest, with their bulging eyes and punk hairstyle

Grey-cheeked mangabey

The nearby wetlands of Bigodi are our next destination. But even along the road, it's teeming with monkeys. Effortlessly, Richard points out some grey-cheeked mangabey – not exactly Mother Nature's finest, with their bulging eyes and punk hairstyle. A red-tailed monkey also hides among the foliage, but we only catch a glimpse of it.

Bigodi Wetland Sanctuary is just a part of the larger Magombe Swamp. Maintaining these wetlands is one of our main objectives, Ben explains. By "us," he means the Kibale Association For Rural and Environmental Development – KAFRED for short. They rightly see tourism as a tool to finance nature conservation.

Ben has a walking trail of about four and a half kilometres in store for us. We will be able to observe eight different species of monkeys and more than 200 bird species. In principle, at least, because it's noon, and the sun is mercilessly casting its heat over the land. Every living being with common sense – tourists excluded – seeks shelter in the cool.

Every living being with common sense – tourists excluded – seeks shelter in the cool

But it's not as bad as it seems. Soon, a black-and-white colobus catches our attention in the foliage. It can live to be twenty-two and a half years old, according to Ben. At birth, it is entirely white; only later does it develop the black fur with white ring beard, mantle, and tail tuft. Its diet is vegetarian and consists mainly of leaves – 68%, to be precise; Ben loves precision. Its beautiful black-and-white fur hasn't always been a blessing. The local population used to like incorporating it into traditional clothing or as wall decoration. Not surprisingly, this colobus doesn't want people near it. Hopefully, it knows to avoid chimpanzees as well.

Ben leads us along the edge of the wetlands. Field crops grow almost up to the trees; there is hardly a transition between farmland and marshland. The wetlands appear to be dry, but that is only the case at the edge. Even during the dry season, the impenetrable core remains submerged.

 

Coffee beans

Nangka (jackfruit)

Under some awnings, young coffee plants are being cultivated. They thrive in the shade before being planted in the fields. Coffee is Uganda's most important export crop, accounting for twenty percent of the economy, according to Ben. Five million people work in the sector. The decline in coffee prices on the international markets was therefore a heavy blow to Uganda.

On the bright side, monkeys don't like coffee beans. Other crops, after all, need constant protection. The two men sitting under a tree a little further away are doing more than just chatting – they are protecting the maize drying in a field here.

 

Blue-headed tree agama

Perched on a thick branch, a blue-headed tree agama silently surveys its surroundings. It's a hefty fellow, agile enough to climb among the branches of trees and even capture small lizards.

Best food for chimpanzees, Ben remarks, referring to the red colobus that we can barely distinguish among the foliage at first. We already knew that chimpanzees consider this lightweight with its reddish head cap as a delicacy. However, the crowned eagle also frequently preys on it. Additionally, its natural habitat is shrinking, to the extent that it is classified as endangered.

 

Great blue turaco

A remarkable sight indeed, the great blue turaco that Ben proudly points out on a branch. A thick branch, to be sure, because the bird weighs over a kilogram. Its marine-blue feathers and dark crest give it a dignified appearance. But most striking is its large, ochre-yellow beak, with a red tip at the end. That's why they also call it the lipstick bird. There seems to be an eternal smile playing around that beak.

 

Grey-cheeked mangabey

In the distance, a grey-cheeked mangabey sits avidly nibbling, its unattractive head just above the leaves. It's a typical forest dweller, feeling at home high in the trees. Eighty percent of its diet consists of fruit. Pouches in its cheeks allow it to store food for a while without digesting it immediately. That happens later, when it rests.

 

Red colobus

Two pairs of eyes stare at us from a low tree. They belong to two red colobuses, a female that is mostly cautious and her young that is mostly curious. Finally, we get the chance to observe these energetic animals relatively up close.

Two pairs of eyes stare at us from a low tree

Red colobuses

From below, we look directly at their gigantic soles of their feet. These come in handy when they need to push off themselves powerfully for a jump to bridge large distances between trees.

 

Red colobuses – Female with young

In a tree, two black-and-white-casqued hornbills reside, a male and a female. They likely have their nest in a cavity of the tree. They form a pair for life. They are hideous birds, with their large, curved beak and on top of that, a massive horn. When they fly, they make a sound like a helicopter, according to Ben. If they catch a lizard, they kill it by crushing it against a tree with their horned beak.

 

Black-and-white-casqued hornbill

Much prettier is the small bird hiding among the reeds. A frivolous pink stripe separates the grey back from the white belly. It's a black-crowned waxbill. They are popular guests in aviaries. A little further, a skittish compact weaver clings to a reed stem with both feet, its yellow chest protruding.

 

Transport of matoke

Next to a water pool, we come across the charred remnants of an outdoor fire. Presumably, gin was distilled here based on matoke, the woody, starchy variant of bananas sometimes called cooking bananas. Completely legal, according to Ben, because the product is not toxic. The unanswered question remains: why it has to be done in a remote place deep in the forest.

 

 

Just after three, we settle into the hotel. There's plenty of time to relax. For instance, by the pool, glamorously situated on one of the highest hills in the area. The panoramic view is fabulous.

Even when they started building pyramids in Egypt, you could still see smoke and sulphur fumes rising from the earth here

At our feet lies the serene Lake Lyantonde. It's one of the fifty crater lakes in this region, formed barely eight to ten thousand years ago from volcanic activity. Rocks and ash were scattered far and wide back then. Even when they started building their pyramids in Egypt, you could still see smoke and sulphur fumes rising from the earth here.

 

Lake Lyantonde – “Papaya Lake”

Nowadays, that volcanic activity has completely disappeared. The crater lakes of Kasenda lie calm and idyllic. But that's a good thing because tomorrow morning, we're going to explore some of them on foot.

Magdalena wants to know what we'd like to eat afterward. We express an interest in trying the local cuisine. This answer surprises her a bit – she suggests pizza as an alternative. But we insist on our choice.

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Saturday 16 July | Papaya Lake

Sternly, an long-crested eagle looks down at us from a telephone pole. Its impressive crest makes it easily recognizable. It's no surprise we find it here, as waters and marshes are its favourite haunts.

 

Black-and-white colobus

In Lake Nkuruba Nature Reserve, they know all about that. Ecotourism is their flagship. Protecting the ancient forests is their primary goal. If you manage to maintain them, the monkeys will benefit. As if to reinforce that statement, some black-and-white colobus let their beautiful tail feathers hang from the trees. A skittish red colobus monkey is also spotted in the vicinity of the visitor centre.

 

Black-and-white colobus

 

Just after half past eight, under the guidance of Good, we set out. Some yellow-billed ducks quietly glide over the water of Lake Nkuruba. A typical feature of a crater lake is that it has no shallow shores, Good explains. The shore steeply descends – 38 meters in this case.

Only small tilapia fish can survive in such cold water, larger fish cannot. You might see people fishing here, but they only use their catch to make soup.

In the early morning, the water is still somewhat warm, and you could swim in it if you wanted to. But later in the day, after the sun has been shining on the water surface for some time, the water will be cold, and you won't be able to swim in it anymore. We can't make sense of this. But Good insists, even though he can't explain this bizarre phenomenon. Later, David will confirm the story.

The red earth road leads us through an open landscape. Seventeen years ago, you could still encounter chimpanzees in this area. But people started clearing more and more forests and creating fields, causing the chimpanzees to gradually lose their habitat.

Orange-red flowers on short stems adorn the leafless branches of a tree next to the road. With their bell shape, they look like fiery flames. Or tulips, hence the name African tulip tree. On the other side of the road, a tree is covered in green leaves but bears no flowers. Yet it's precisely the same tree. Every year, the tulip trees go through these phases. But they don't necessarily happen synchronously since the tropics don't have seasons.

 

With a tree full of weaver nests on your property, you can't become poor

Next to a house stands a tree full of weaver nests. If you have such a tree on your property, you can't become poor, chuckles Good. Because those birds unfailingly wake you up at six o'clock, and then you have to go to work. Further down the road, a lush cassia spectabilis – a relative of the golden rain – flaunts its frivolous clusters of yellow flowers.

Brick houses are rather rare here. Those who don't own their land or aren't planning to stay in that place use natural materials for their dwellings.

 

Plantation of matoke

The eternal smile of black Africa

This region experiences two rainy seasons, in February and October. Currently, it hasn't rained here for a month and ten days. That explains the current drought.

 

Rwaihamba

A dark green, umbrella-shaped acacia casts its shadow in a wide circle around its trunk. People like to relax in the coolness there – it's sometimes called an African green hat.

From the telephone wire, a red-eyed dove, a Vieillot’s black weaver, and a common sparrow look down at us, while Good draws our attention to the short, black trunks that distinguish the matoke trees. Edible bananas, more familiar to us in the West, grow on trees with tall, green trunks.

Uganda accounts for one-quarter of the total production of cooking bananas worldwide. Cooked and mashed, matoke is a national dish – popular as a side dish with meat or fish.

 

Rwaihamba

Gradually, we reach the dusty Rwaihamba, the place where on Thursday evening we barely discerned a few huts in the darkness. Now it turns out to be mostly shops and workshops for small crafts. This is not a village, Good explains, trade is conducted here. Every evening, these people return to their homes.

 

 

You can buy household items here, groceries, a dusty piece of meat, a part for your motorcycle. Don't expect any change. You hand over the amount and receive the equivalent value in goods.

 

That's how you capture a photo

There's even a school nearby. We aim higher is their motto. At a stall, we pick up a few thick pancakes. It's a combination of matoke with cassava flour, nutritious but rather bland in taste.

 

 

That his mother passed away when he was nine is Good's surprising response to our question about whether he is married. Since then, he has been trying to make ends meet together with his grandmother. He can't rely on his father. His only accomplishment, he says cynically, was to have fathered Good. After that, he abandoned them and now lives with another woman. Good sometimes encounters him on the street, but he doesn't even know how many children his father has with that other woman.

 

 

Through the majestic landscape, we continue our journey on foot. A cheerful cattle herder drives his cows ahead of him with light dancing steps along the wide track of red earth. Banana plantations undulate in the distance over the hills.

 

A cheerful cattle herder drives his cows ahead of him with light dancing steps

Small spherical fruits, slightly larger than passion fruits, hang from a tree adorned with white and blue flowers. They call these fruits soda apples, but they have nothing to do with apples. They are even toxic, which is not surprising since the tree belongs to the nightshade family.

 

Lake Nyinambuga

A half-hour walk brings us to the idyllic Lake Nyinambuga, the Mother Lake, one of the largest crater lakes in the area. This place is not entirely unknown to us. After all, the lake is depicted on the back of the Ugandan 20,000 shilling banknotes.

The sandy path now leads us between Lake Nyinambuga and the small Lake Kifuruka. Avocados hang in bunches, ripening on a tree. A pied crow nervously scans its surroundings from a branch. Its chest is white, quite unusual for a crow-like bird.

 

Banana plantations

Avocados

A pair of hadada ibises also lurk somewhere among the foliage – Good recognizes their loud calls. Then they swiftly soar through the air, seeking a quieter spot. Unfortunately, we don't get the chance to admire the beautiful metallic sheen on their wings.

Good picks up where he left off earlier. Marriage is not on the cards for him for the time being due to his dubious status. First, he needs to have a piece of land. Normally, you inherit that from your father, but he gets nothing from his father at all. That became apparent years ago when he went to ask him for money for school books.

You can also rent land, but then you pay a fortune until your death, and Good isn't keen on that. As things stand now, he doesn't want to take on the responsibility of a wife and children. Perhaps in about ten years, who knows. I hate him very much, he summarizes his feelings for his biological father.

 

Lake Rukwanzi

Meanwhile, we have approached Lake Rukwanzi, the Necklace Lake. We take a quick look at it but immediately turn back on our steps. Time is running out. Good tries to contact Richard to pick us up with the jeeps, but his phone remains silent. Later, it will turn out that his battery was dead.

 

We cut through the banana plantations to save time – it's a bit of a maze

So, we cut through the banana plantations to save time. It's a bit of a maze, but a boy who knows the area like the back of his hand leads the way. We descend into a hollow between the hills along a sandy path. Banana plants tower above us. Children carry large bunches of matoke on their heads, the dangerous machetes they used to cut them off are held casually in their hands.

 

 

In the lodge, Magdalena has kept her word. A mashed matoke dish appears on the table, accompanied by dodo, a local vegetable, posho, a maize-based cake similar to rice, and a sauce made from groundnuts. It's a simple, honest dish, but a bit bland in taste, not exactly the kind to delight pampered Western taste buds. Fortunately, there's the flavourful sauce to rescue the dish. And it must be said, we also sample the pizza briefly.

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Jaak Palmans
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