Gorillas in the sun

Uganda – Rwanda | Anno 2016

 

Monday, July 18 | Queen Elizabeth National Park – Lake Mutanda

Tuesday, July 19 | Bwindi Impenetrable National Park

Wednesday, July 20 | Lake Mutanda – Kinigi

Thursday, July 21 | Volcanoes National Park

 

 

Monday, July 18 | Queen Elizabeth National Park – Lake Mutanda

We have a little over three hundred kilometres ahead of us today, all the way to the southwestern corner of Uganda, where the mountain gorillas await us. We leave Queen Elizabeth National Park via Katunguru Gate. The paved road doesn’t live up to that name. It turns out to be a bumpy road full of crater-like potholes, a torture for man and vehicle. Driver Richard avoids the rough road surface as much as possible and zooms over the gravel shoulder next to it, causing the jeep to lean dangerously to the left.

 

Once we've climbed out of the plain, the asphalt road improves slightly

 

Once we've climbed out of the plain, the asphalt road clearly improves. A last crater lake briefly catches our attention. Then tea plantations make their appearance again. Rectangular, yellow-green plots undulate far and wide across the hills. The plants are perfectly trimmed to the same height, as if a gigantic lawnmower has rolled over them.

The road is excellent now. Here and there, they are harvesting tea leaves with scissors with an open bag dangling from them. The mixture of twigs and shredded leaves that ends up in the bag must be sorted out afterward. You can't expect quality tea from that.

Elsewhere, they are manually picking the leaves. According to Richard, this is the only way to obtain the quality required for export.

In the distance, the tea plantations merge into a vast rainforest. This is the territory of about five hundred chimpanzees. The area is very familiar to Richard because he worked there for about four months in 2002.

 

Tea plantations and banana plantations alternate

 

Tea plantations and banana plantations alternate. It's a quarter to one when we take the turn south in the bustling Ishaka. Once again, it's an excellent asphalt road that takes us through the gently rolling landscape. Barely hindered by the light cloud cover, the sun shines throughout.

The narrow valley of the Birira brings us to the undulating terrain around Kagamba, at about 1,600 meters above sea level. From there, we head to Ntungamo, where we join the excellent asphalt road between Mbarara and Kabale – a major thoroughfare in this region.

The jeeps zoom swiftly southward through the broad valley. We delve deeper into the southwestern corner of Uganda. Just 20 kilometres to the east lies the border with Rwanda, with the border with Tanzania a further 10 kilometres to the east.

 

 

It's very fertile here, as evidenced by the many houses with their small fields along the road. Countless banana plantations also attest to this.

Just past Rushenyi, we finally climb into the mountains. From the saddle between two hills, the Great Lakes Museum overlooks the surroundings. It was only opened in 2014 in an attempt to preserve the local culture from oblivion. We picnic at the adjacent restaurant. Outside, an armed guard has taken up position.

The road now winds from valley to valley through the mountains. Just before four o'clock, we reach Kabale, a prosperous town of 40,000 inhabitants, the largest in the distant area. Along a winding route, the excellent asphalt road winds between and over the hills to Kisoro, in the far southwest corner of Uganda, just 12 kilometres from both Rwanda and Congo. Meanwhile, the cloud cover has increased, showing shades of grey here and there. But it remains sunny.

Suddenly, a truck appears at full speed from an blind double bend while overtaking another vehicle. Without hesitation, Richard skilfully avoids the raging colossus and prevents a head-on collision.

 

 

Then the valley expands into a broad plain. Farming communities have constructed impressive terraces for agriculture on the deforested slopes. Below, green rectangular potato plantations stretch across the flat valley floor. Fertile land is a scarce commodity here. Villages like Kabirizi and Heisesero cling to the road like pearls on a string, minimizing wasted land.

 

 

The spectacle becomes even more impressive as our jeeps climb back into the hills. As far as the eye can see, the dry terraces undulate like a gigantic chessboard of green and brown squares over the often steep slopes. For the farmers, the journey to and from the fields must be almost as arduous as working in the fields.

 

 

As we descend towards Muko, we occasionally catch glimpses of Lake Buyonyi, a water body covering 60 square kilometres at an altitude of 1,950 meters. It has a rugged shape, as if it is an artificial lake, filling valleys and creating islands after humans constructed a dam. That is not far from the truth, as it was likely a lava flow that, eight thousand years ago, formed a natural dam near Muko, permanently blocking the Ndego River.

 

Volcanoes Muhabura, Gahinga and Sabyinyo

Even bamboo forests are now appearing alongside the road. Three blue-grey, cone-shaped silhouettes become sharper against the hazy sky as we approach Kisoro. These are the famous extinct volcanoes on the border between Uganda and Rwanda, from left to right Muhabura (4,127 m), Gahinga (3,475 m), and finally Sabyinyo (3,669 m), with its peak precisely at the tripoint border.

 

 

Just before reaching Kisoro, at around six o'clock, we turn right and leave the comfortable asphalt behind. Through bustling little communities alongside the road we now proceed northward over a bumpy pothole course.

 

Lake Mutanda

The sand track winds irregularly along the slopes of the hills above Lake Mutanda. It wouldn't be fair to call this lake picturesque, as it would undersell the poetic beauty of this environment. In the distance, the three volcanoes stand quietly above the evening mists. Islands dot the water like tufts of grass on a silver mirror. Green slopes dotted with houses, fields, and banana plants steeply descend to the water. On the horizon, the evening glow briefly resists the advancing rain clouds.

It's lightly raining as we reach the colourful pavilions of Chameleon Hill Lodge just before seven o'clock, a sublime location at the northern end of Lake Mutanda, almost 1,900 meters above sea level.

 

Lake Mutanda, with the volcanoes Muhabura, Gahinga, and Sabyinyo

You are very lucky, manager Patrick points out as we once again enjoy the magnificent view of the lake and the volcanoes from the terrace in the twilight. Because the volcanoes are rarely visible. Usually, they are hidden behind dust and sand mists, the result of human activity. We owe our luck today... to the rain. It has washed the dust out of the air.

The big day is coming. Tomorrow, we will meet the mountain gorillas up close. At least, that's what we hope for, as we learn during the briefing. To begin with, it's not easy to penetrate their world in Bwindi Impenetrable National Park – the name alone sounds uninvitingly.

A cautious estimate suggests a trek of at least eight hours, Richard warns us. If we manage to find the gorillas faster, then that's just a stroke of luck

It's rough, hilly terrain, at an altitude of over 2,000 meters. We'll be climbing and descending, traversing muddy paths, among soaking wet plants taller than a person. Eventually, there won't be any paths. Then the park ranger will cut his way through the undergrowth with his machete. We'll continue our way through a slippery trampoline of broken stems until we reach the gorillas. Even a tropical rain shower cannot be completely ruled out. Then you squat under your poncho and wait patiently.

A cautious estimate suggests a trek of at least eight hours, Richard warns us. If we manage to find the gorillas faster, then that's just a stroke of luck.

Another stroke of luck – gorillas don't climb trees, we learn. They usually sit on the ground, making them easy to observe. That's at least an advantage compared to chimpanzees, who can sit ten to fifteen meters high in the trees.

Just after half past ten, the electric generator is turned off, and silence descends over the lodge.

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Tuesday, July 19 | Bwindi Impenetrable National Park

At half past four, the lights flick on. Roosters crow, crickets chirp. Low over the lake, the reddish full moon glows. Only a thin haze veils the twinkling stars. No rain clouds then, which is good news.

Shortly after half past six, we depart. An early start is necessary because the northward route is arguably the worst that drivers Richard and David have until now got under their wheels. The jeeps barely make progress as they wobble over thick stones. There's even a slight bottleneck at one point, as one of the other jeeps struggles to ascend a slope.

 

Bwindi Impenetrable National Park

A faint reddish glow appears above the mountains in the east as dusk settles in. Ragged wisps of mist hang low in the valleys. The silhouettes of trees stand out sharply against the backdrop.

It's half past seven when we reach Rushaga Gate – we needed almost an hour for the 16 km journey. Five names are displayed next to the gate: Mishaya, Nshongi, Bweza, Kahungye, Busingye – the names of the gorilla groups traceable from here.

The mountain gorillas in Bwindi are doing well. Currently, the park has 340 of them, nearly half of the world population

About thirty tourists have already found their way to the banda, the semi-open pavilion where the briefing will take place. There are no clouds; the radiant blue sky holds the promise of a splendid day. From just above the hills, the sun casts its white rays almost horizontally between the dark tree trunks.

In 1994, Bwindi Impenetrable National Park was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, head park ranger Augustin starts telling us at eight o'clock. And as far as vegetation and gorillas are concerned, Rushaga is the richest part of it. So rich that there are many other things to be seen besides gorillas.

He could elaborate extensively on this, but he understands that's not the reason we're here for, he grins. Nonetheless, it's a good idea to keep an eye out for birds and other animals along the way.

The mountain gorillas in Bwindi are doing well. Currently, the park has 340 of them, nearly half of the world population estimated at around 880.

Five gorilla groups reside on this side of the park. Each group can be visited by no more than eight people for a maximum of one hour per day. If you want to observe the gorillas at their best, it's best to come between eight and two o'clock. That's when they are most active. Later in the day, after they've eaten enough, they become lazy and almost invisible among the bushes.

A gorilla trekking is always preceded by a gorilla tracking

The gorillas of Bwindi have become accustomed to humans. But they are still wild animals, warns Augustin. They move freely over an area of 331 km². Trackers have gone ahead to locate the gorilla groups. So, a gorilla trekking is always preceded by a gorilla tracking.

 

Tracker with machete

Augustin is quite confident, with nearly 100 % certainty, that each of the five groups will be found. Our journey won't be difficult, but it will be challenging and always different. A walking stick is definitely necessary, and having a helper is also helpful.

Sometimes it can take up to five hours before reaching the gorillas. So mentally preparing for an eight-hour day trip is advisable. Anything less than that is a stroke of luck – where have we heard that before?

Even in the rainforest, there are rules to abide by. Always stay with the group and leave no litter behind, Augustin emphasizes. Maintain a distance of seven to eight meters from the gorillas, unless they approach closer themselves. Avoid making eye contact with them and refrain from speaking in their presence – the former could challenge them, and the latter might scare them off. Also, anyone who is ill – with the flu, diarrhoea, etc. – should not join. Given the high genetic similarity, the risk of transmitting diseases to the gorillas is too great.

So let's one more time check our attire and logistics readiness – headgear, sunglasses, long-sleeved shirt, gloves, long pants tucked into impregnated socks, hiking boots, raincoat, poncho, DEET, lunch pack, water. And for later, a bag with dry clothes in the jeep, as getting wet is inevitable.

 

 

Everything is there, except for our walking stick. We choose a sturdy one from the supply provided by Bwindi. We are ready. Let’s go for it.

Docilely, we let ourselves be assigned to the Nshongi group along with the other seniors and heavier-set individuals

Docilely, we let ourselves be assigned to the Nshongi group along with the other seniors and heavier-set individuals. This gorilla group generally stays near the Nshongi River and is considered one of the easiest to reach in the park. Another stroke of luck.

Stephen will be our guide. Jude and Mac will watch over our safety, the rifle casually slung over their shoulders. And then there are the helpers. They emerge somewhat shyly, neatly dressed in grey-blue uniforms and black boots. They hardly speak English, but they are very kind. And almost indispensable, as we will soon find out.

 

 

But there's more. The helpers are recruited on a rotational basis from the surrounding villages – both men and women. They receive fifteen to twenty dollars for this task – a decent sum in this country. If the gorillas were to become extinct, an important source of income would disappear. The local communities therefore have a vested interest in protecting both the gorilla and its habitat.

In captivity, mountain gorillas – unlike lowland gorillas – cannot survive. This has been sufficiently proven. The only way to preserve the species is in this tropical mountainous region. But without the cooperation of the local population, this will never succeed.

It's quite a procession as we climb the mountains via a comfortable path. Stephen and Jude set the pace at the front. The eight helpers follow at the back with our luggage. As the last in line, Mac watches over the safety of the column at the rear.

At first, the pace is a bit too fast. But after a short break, it improves. Sunbeams penetrate the foliage. It's getting warmer, but thanks to the altitude, it remains bearable. An impressive concert of bird sounds surrounds us.

 

 

The path becomes narrower and narrower until it ends after about an hour and a half. It now becomes a slippery course, between wet, waist-high bushes. The large leaves close like a green curtain immediately after each passer-by. Sometimes it seems as if you're alone in the world for a moment.

Now we're going steeply uphill. The muddy ground barely offers any grip. Tree roots, rocks, and fallen trees constantly present obstacles. There's no more time to look out for birds or other animals – sorry, Augustin. All our attention is focused on our feet and what they are doing.

 

After barely ten minutes of struggling, good news arrives

 

Silently, the helpers have manoeuvred themselves forward from the rear ranks and are now pushing or pulling their charges up the slope. A forward-thinking, slightly heavier lady has even hired two helpers – one to push, one to pull. This indeed is where the helpers make the difference. They even pluck the forest ants from our impregnated socks when we unwittingly step into an anthill.

After barely ten minutes of struggling, good news arrives. The trackers have located the Nshongi group. Another ten minutes later, we've approached so closely that we must leave everything behind, including the walking sticks and the helpers.

 

Kebirungi (f), with Raha (m) or Jord (m) in the background

This relatively small group consists of eight individuals, Stephen explains. The silverback, Bweza, which means handsome boy, is the leader. He has three adult females with him – Munini, Nyampundu, and Kebirungi. Furthermore, there's the blackback Rotary, an adult but not yet sexually mature. However, that won't last long, and tensions may arise. Much younger are Raha and Jord, two males aged three and four years. And finally, there's Kebirungi's four-month-old baby, still too young to have a name.

 

Kebirungi with baby

In a mix of curious excitement and nervous tension, we continue our trek. Moses and Richard, the two trackers, along with Brenda, their intern, have already cleared the path a bit with their machetes.

Suddenly, chest-thumping reverberates through the rainforest. It must be one of the young lads

Suddenly, chest-thumping reverberates through the rainforest. It must be one of the young lads, Raha or Jord, trying to assert himself. But the gorillas remain invisible.

 

Kebirungi…

…and her baby

We struggle to climb further up a slope of about 45°. Then suddenly, we notice Kebirungi. Several meters high in a tree – not according to the plan – she sits calmly, picking and eating leaves.

 

Kebirungi

It seems straightforward, but it takes a moment before we notice – Kebirungi has her baby with her. With big, innocent eyes, the little one looks around curiously.

 

 

The baby is eager to imitate everything mother does – grabbing twigs, pulling off leaves, chewing on them. But for now, it's not going so well. He also hasn't figured out how to mimic his mother's occasional loud wind. What he does manage flawlessly is clinging to his mother without tumbling down.

 

Kebirungi

In the background, Raha and Jord are also in the trees, but we don't get to see much of them. Bweza is also said to be nearby. Moses and Richard quickly locate him. He sits calmly under the bushes, nibbling on grass, still on the ground. Only his enormous head is visible. Then he stands up and crawls away on hands and feet, his imposing, silver-grey back in full glory facing us.

 

Bweza doesn't let the commotion bother him and settles comfortably under a bush, almost invisible to us

 

Bweza (m)

To follow him, we have to take a detour around the bushes. Even though Moses and Richard may clear some branches, it remains a perilous endeavour to maintain your balance on a 45° slope while standing on a trampoline of slippery, chopped-off stems, amid ivy and vines that seem determined to entwine around your legs.

 

Bweza

 

Bweza isn't bothered by the commotion and settles comfortably under a bush, nearly invisible to us. Shortly after, one of the young males appears, only to promptly disappear again.

 

One of the young males

Kebirungi also moves briefly. Calmly, she lowers herself down a few branches. Hidden among the bushes, she continues her feast, the baby still clinging to her fur.

 

 

Then the helpers show up, signalling that our hour of observation has elapsed. We begin our return journey through the bushes. Twenty minutes later, we come across something resembling a path – a narrow muddy trail between tall bushes. But it's not as wet as before, thanks to the sun. It's a huge stroke of luck, this cloudless, blue sky.

 

 

Around half past twelve, we bring out our lunch packs. As helpful as ever, the helpers guide us to a tree trunk with a comfortable layer of moss to rest our pampered backsides on.

Shortly after two o'clock, we're back at our starting point. So, the trek lasted five and a half hours. The banda is at an altitude of 1,900 meters, while the gorillas were at about 2,300 meters, estimates Stephen. So, there's a difference of four hundred meters.

Uganda is a very safe country, let there be no misunderstanding about that in the West

Stephen still has a passionate plea for nature conservation in store for us. And for his country, of course. The gorilla certificate he hands us must be framed and prominently displayed at home – preferably in the hallway. Every visitor will then take keen interest in it. We should seize that special moment to convince them to travel to Uganda immediately. Because nowadays, Uganda is a very safe country, let there be no misunderstanding about that in the West. The horror is now more than a quarter of a century behind us. Uganda needs tourism. And it's not that difficult, such a trekking, right? Sweaty and slightly out of breath, we agree.

 

 

 

 

The stunning landscape that was hidden in darkness this morning now unfolds in all its vitality – steep, green hills adorned with fields and farms. A hazy atmosphere veils the distant shore of Lake Mutanda from view, but the colourful pavilions of the lodge sparkle in the sun.

 

Lake Mutanda

 

Later in the evening, just before six, distant thunder rumbles. Soon enough, rain pours down over Chameleon Hill. The volcanoes are no longer visible.

 

Chameleon Hill Lodge

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Wednesday, July 20 | Lake Mutanda – Kinigi

 

More and more sounds from the surrounding houses gently ripple up the hill – the murmuring of awakening people, the clattering of pots and pans, the children's laughter. Birds also make themselves heard from all sides.

 

Lake Mutanda

It's a beautiful postcard scene, with the lake lying there with its wooded islands and its rugged coves. Mists obscure the far end of the lake from view. The three volcanoes are also missing from the scene.

 

Wherever possible, small fields have been laid out

A short but steep descent on foot brings us to the shore. A strip of papyrus plants forms an ideal spot for birds of various plumage – a golden weaver, a glossy starling.

 

Glossy starling

Weaver

Not only are we leaving behind this idyllic location today, but also our journey through Uganda is coming to an end. Soon, we will cross the border into Rwanda and nestle ourselves on the slopes of those same three volcanoes, but on the southern side.

 

 

It is lightly cloudy but sunny as we begin our journey south along the eastern side of the lake just before one o'clock. Like a salmon-coloured ribbon, the dirt track winds over the green slopes ahead of us. Down below, the islands bask in the sun. Wherever possible on the southern slopes, fields have been cultivated – even if they slope more than 45 degrees.

 

Kisoro

Half an hour later, Richard and David drop us off in the cosy bustle of Kisoro. It's our last chance to shop in Uganda before heading definitively southeast.

 

Border post of Gamtano – Cyanika

At a quarter past two, a handful of trucks in a large parking lot announce the Gamtano – Cyanika border post. A primitive barrier blocks the passage. Indigenous pedestrians seem to cross the border without any formality, usually carrying a load on their heads.

Our first task is to queue up at the police station. Without any ceremony, we are handed a tiny, inconspicuous vignette, barely the size of a postage stamp. We are reminded not to lose it.

A surly policeman apathetically flips through our passports. We cross the barrier and feel like we're in Rwanda, but we're handed a Ugandan Departure Declaration Form. Another half hour of waiting in line at the counter results in getting the necessary stamps. All together it took a little over an hour to cross the border. During that time, barely three vehicles crossed the border, including our two jeeps.

But that's not counting on the challenge we face next, embodied by Shandata Marechal

Once in Rwanda, we think we can continue our journey. But that's not counting on the challenge we face next, embodied by Shandata Marechal. He has been appointed by the Rwanda Tourism Board to showcase the tourist attractions of his country – whether we want to hear about it or not. An assignment he will carry out with enthusiasm. We sit down resignedly. Everything beautiful about Rwanda is reviewed. The fact that our schedule has long been fixed and that we will leave the country the day after tomorrow does not bother him. We will return to Rwanda someday, won't we?

Just after half past three, our jeeps can continue their way – on the right side of the road this time. We almost forgot, the same time as in Belgium applies here. Quickly, we set our watches back an hour.

It's noticeably busy on the streets, much busier than in Uganda. In the midst of the surrounding giants, Rwanda is no more than a dwarf state – almost the size of Belgium. Yet, in that small country, 12.7 million people live. That's 481 per square kilometre – more than twice as many as in Uganda.

In this region, you will mainly encounter Hutus, Richard says. Originally, they were farmers. Presumably, they were the first to migrate to Rwanda. Even before the Tutsis, a people of cattle herders who arrived here in the 11th century. Still, the Hutus make up the vast majority, with 85% of the population. President Habyarimana himself, a Hutu, was from this region.

However, it was gradually the aristocratic Tutsis who came to dominate Rwanda. Through a system of feudal services, they managed to bind the Hutus to themselves. Using land or cattle required reciprocal obligations. Labour, for example, or even military service.

Once reviled, the life's work of the passionate biologist is now the main, if not the only attraction of the bustling city

Just after three, Musanze comes into sight. It's a busy, lively city. A turbulent flow of traffic steadily flows through the streets. Cyclists with green, numbered C.V.M vests skilfully navigate through the hustle. That's public transport, as a passenger, you sit on the luggage rack of the vélo-taxi. At intersections, armed soldiers lazily observe the hectic proceedings.

Changing money doesn't go so well at first. But Richard has his contacts here too. On the gate of a dingy building hangs an A4 sheet with a mobile phone number. A quick call and presto, the owner appears. The gate opens, revealing a bare room without windows, furniture, wall decoration, or lighting. The man buys our euros at 870 RWF each.

Musanze is a town we had never heard of before. Yet it must be by far the largest city in the region. Gradually, it begins to dawn on us – Musanze is the ancient Ruhengeri. In 2006, the city received its new name in an attempt to permanently dispel the connotations of a gruesome past – the death squads in 1994, the murder of Dian Fossey in 1985.

The fact that the buildings of The Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International are now passing by the window is an ironic coincidence. Once reviled, the life's work of the passionate biologist is now the main, if not the only attraction of the bustling city.

Almost single-handedly, she saved the mountain gorillas of the border area between Rwanda, Uganda, and Congo. And probably those of Bwindi in Uganda as well. But that’s not Richard’s opinion.

Until 1902, the existence of mountain gorillas was not even known to Western science

Until 1902, the existence of mountain gorillas was not even known to Western science. In that year, a German explorer stumbled upon two mountain gorillas by chance. It ended fatally – for the gorillas, of course. Immediately, the tone for the relationship between the two hominids was set.

Until Dian Fossey appeared on the scene. In 1967, she started working on the slopes of the Virunga Mountains. These are eight volcanoes around the tripoint, two of which are still active in Congo. She founded her research centre, Karisoke, and immediately set to work with her favourite activities – scaring off illegal poachers and loggers and observing mountain gorillas, preferably in the mist. This earned her the nickname Nyiramachabelli – the woman who lives alone on the mountain. A meticulous count in 1981 taught her that there were barely 242 gorillas left in the border area.

Since then, the protection of mountain gorillas has improved considerably. In Rwanda at least, where Volcanoes National Park is achieving success, and in Uganda, with the tiny Mgahinga Gorilla National Park.

The vast Virunga National Park in Congo, on the other hand is a completely different story. Belgian Prince Emmanuel de Merode knows about it firsthand. In April 2014, he barely survived an assassination attempt as park director. The fight against poachers, loggers, rebels, and even coal and oil miners is far from over there. Yet the park reopened in 2014 after more than thirty years.

 

Grey crowned crane

Shortly after four o'clock, a gravel road through the forest brings us to Mountain Gorilla View Lodge in Kinigi, at an altitude of 2,440 meters, on the foothills of the Virunga Mountains. Spread out across an open grassy field in the forest are around thirty chalets. The fireplace spreads a welcome warmth throughout the spacious reception hall. A semi-tame grey crowned crane confidently scavenges the grounds.

 

Young warriors, selected to receive a broad education – from poetry to spear-throwing

 

Just before dusk sets in, a dozen traditional dancers take to the open grass field as their stage. The exuberant war dance they perform, the Dance of Heroes, stems from the tradition of the intore. These were young warriors selected by the mwani, the king, to receive a broad education – from poetry to spear-throwing.

 

 

An impressive headdress of long sisal strands descends over the dancers' shoulders like the mane of a horse. They energetically swing them around. In the background, the women sing in chorus while beating on the traditional ingoma, a drum covered with a cowhide drumhead. But it's the grey-blue silhouette of the imposing Sabyinyo in the background that gives the bustling spectacle its magical touch.

 

Dance of the Heroes with the Sabyinyo volcano as backdrop

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Thursday, July 21 | Volcanoes National Park

The copper disk of the sun still hides behind the clouds above the Muhabura as we arrive at the headquarters of Volcanoes National Park at quarter to seven, full of anticipation. We are the very first ones. Gradually, the parking lot fills up with about thirty jeeps.

 

 

Once again, we are treated to a lively performance, this time by the Sacola Traditional Dancers. No impressive headdresses this time, but instead drumming, singing, and dancing bursting with vibrant energy and boundless enthusiasm.

 

Sacola Traditional Dancers

But at this early hour, the spectacle doesn't really catch on. It's a pity because the significance of the Sabyinyo Community Livelihoods Association for the region cannot be underestimated. With projects like One family, one cow and Partners, not poachers, they strongly focus on economic development and the delicate cohabitation of humans and wildlife. Through eco-lodges and dances like this one, they manage to finance these initiatives.

 

 

Mountain gorillas live here between 2,400 m and 4,000 m, our guide Patience explains. So, it cannot be ruled out that we will have to climb all the way to the top of the volcano to meet them, he adds with a smirk.

The gorilla group assigned to us is called Ntambara. That means fighting, allegedly the leading silverback knows all about it. Trackers are already on their way to find them. When mountain gorillas move, it can only be for two reasons, according to Patience – searching for food or acquiring females.

It cannot be ruled out that we will have to climb all the way to the top of the volcano to meet them, he adds with a smirk

By the way, the gorilla population here is doing excellently. In 2014, a total of fourteen gorilla babies were given names during the annual ceremonial Kwita Izina. In 2015, there were twenty, and for 2016, there are already twenty-three.

With a bit of experience, you can recognize individual gorillas by their nose prints. After all, they are as unique as human fingerprints. But here, they don't settle for that. Samples are collected from the faeces or hair of the young ones. DNA analysis then allows each individual to be unequivocally identified. Double counts are thus excluded.

Gorilla babies weigh about one and a half to two and a half kilograms at birth. Until their third year of life, they depend entirely on their mothers. For juveniles aged three to six, searching for food and making a nest is no longer a challenge. From six to eight, Patience calls them non-sexually mature adolescents. From eight to twelve years old, they are blackbacks – at least the males – and from twelve years old, they are silverbacks. These can weigh up to 200 kg and live to be 35 to 40 years old. To maintain that heavy body, a silverback consumes around 80 kg of food and 17 litres of water daily.

Females become fertile at the age of eight and will give birth to four to six offspring over their lifetime. They rarely give birth to twins. When that happens, usually only one of them survives.

For every silverback, it's crucial to gather a group of females and young around him. For instance, the leader of the Sabyinyo group is currently 45 years old. So, succession is imminent. For now, it seems to be proceeding without skirmishes. A second silverback seems to be undergoing some kind of training and is ready to succeed him.

Females are easily charmed by strong suitors – it can only benefit their offspring

A more frequent scenario is when blackbacks try to lure females to form their own group. Or when blackbacks set out to conquer females from other groups. Females are easily charmed by strong suitors – it can only benefit their offspring.

Enough talk, just after eight we head out with the jeeps and bump over the rocks to Bisate, 2,610 meters high on the slopes of Visoke. In the surrounding area, men and women are already busy in the fields with their machetes.

 

 

Richard drops us off at the parking lot of Kwamukecuru. That means old woman, because this is where Dian Fossey used to park her jeep when she went into the mountains for extended periods of time. Our porters are waiting for us there.

 

 

Just after nine, we set off. The path leads straight up, between the fields, towards the volcano. A little further on, four more park rangers join us. They are armed, so any cantankerous buffaloes would do well to think twice before attacking us.

 

 

Not even half a square meter of this fertile volcanic soil is left unused. The fields stretch right up to the edge of the forest. The transition from cultivated land to the national park is razor-thin.

 

 

That has always been the case. Moreover, before Dian Fossey arrived here in 1967, it was common practice to hunt, poach, chop wood, collect honey, and even cultivate fields within the national park. Gorillas that were unfortunate enough to get in the way were coldly killed. Conservation was of no interest whatsoever, not even to the government, according to Patience.

Gorillas that were unfortunate enough to get in the way were coldly killed

But Dian Fossey was not one to be trifled with. She formed anti-poaching teams that systematically patrolled the park, destroying all traps and confiscating materials. It was a fierce battle, one that she would ultimately pay for with her life. On December 27, 1985, she was found lifeless in Karisoke, her face smashed in with a machete.

Conservation only works, according to Patience, when the local population is involved. The last known case of poaching dates back to 2002. Protecting the gorillas and their habitat is now seen as essential, partly due to the influx of tourists. The porter system also contributes to this, as we have seen in Bwindi.

Today, the park is surrounded by a stone wall – not to keep people out, but to keep the buffaloes in, away from the fields. It has been quite a process, from 2002 to 2009 they worked on it.

 

The fields stretch right up to the edge of the forest. The transition from cultivated land to the national park is razor-thin

But the buffaloes weren't to be trifled with either. They made breaches in the wall at will, so a ditch had to be dug on the inside.

From atop the wall, Patience gives his final instructions. There are twelve gorilla groups in this park. Each group can be visited by a maximum of eight tourists for one hour each day. More contact could cause stress or unrest. Additionally, they keep two backup groups on standby in case some groups stray too far.

We are always instructed to maintain a distance of five to seven meters from the gorillas. It's okay to make eye contact with a gorilla, but staring is inappropriate as it can be perceived as aggressive. Sneezing is also allowed, but it should be done away from the gorillas. Eating or drinking, however, is not allowed.

Anyone who is sick is not allowed to join – although any form of control over this seems non-existent. Those who need to relieve themselves should dig a hole in the ground and cover it afterward to prevent the spread of disease.

If a male gorilla beats his chest, it means he's ready for a fight – showing signs of submission then is advisable. But it could also just be a form of intimidation or impressing.

 

In principle, we avoid the nettles, according to Patience – the opposite would truly alarm us

One final warning pertains to the nettles. These are tropical specimens, two to three meters tall, with enormous leaves. In principle, we avoid them, according to Patience – the opposite would truly alarm us. But gorillas happen to like those big leaves and may be found amidst them.

We inquire whether the trackers could simply chop down the nettles with their machetes. It's obviously a wrong question. Destroy the gorillas' food? Absolutely not, is the stern response.

 

 

We continue to have good luck with the weather – the sun shines in a lightly cloudy sky. Just before half past nine, we continue into the forest. A fairly comfortable path leads up the slope. There's no struggling through wet bushes up the slope like in Bwindi here. We follow Patience effortlessly – figuratively speaking.

 

 

We've been on the trail for barely fifty minutes when the message comes in that the trackers have located the Ntambara group – less than half an hour away from here. Patience casually points out some lobelias, an herbaceous plant that provides relief if you've been stung by nettles.

 

Volcanoes National Park

Kosoboom (hagenia abyssinica)

High above our heads, on the slope of the volcano, some specimens of the famous hagenia abyssinica or kosso tree rise. They usually have gigantic root protrusions, completely covered with lichens – they look like upholstered armchairs, writes Dian Fossey. Gorillas also like to nestle on such a cushion of moss to forage quietly – not from the long leaves or the lilac-coloured flower clusters of the tree itself, but from the numerous epiphytes, especially the ferns.

And yes, we have to go through a field of nettles to reach the gorillas

Twenty minutes later, we reach the spot where – apart from our cameras – we have to leave all our luggage behind. We're sitting at approximately 2,900 meters above sea level. And yes, we have to go through a field of nettles to reach the gorillas. Patience puts on a thick pair of pants and a thick jacket over his clothes and confidently strides through the nettle field.

Now it's our turn. The gloves and the three layers of clothing come in handy – not against the wetness, but against the nettles. Unfortunately, the slightly too thin pants are a different story.

 

Urahirwa (f) and Ntaribi (m)

Urahirwa

Quite soon, Patience spots two young gorillas, the female Urahirwa and the male Ntaribi. Only their heads and shoulders poke out above the nettles. We struggle closer, but it doesn't make much difference. They are facing away from us, so all we can distinguish are two hairy black spots among the nettles.

 

Twibuke (m)

 

Patience guides us further through the nettles. A little further on, Twibuke is hanging out, the nineteen-year-old leader of the group. That's what the trackers told him. Indeed, under a bush, the silverback is indulging in leaves. His powerful head is clearly visible, but that's all we can see of him too.

 

Twibuke

 

Our presence doesn't bother him at all. Until he's had enough. He disappears on all fours between the bushes, leaving us with a view of his beautiful silver-grey back.

 

 

 

Suddenly, a female emerges from the bushes. She nibbles on some nettles and disappears in the same direction as Twibuke. Urahirwa and Ntaribi also appear from behind us. Nonchalantly, they walk right past us – apparently, they don't feel the need to respect the minimum distance of 5 to 7 meters. Playfully but quite forcefully, Twibuke swipes at the legs of one of the park rangers.

 

Playfully but quite forcefully, Twibuke swipes at the legs of one of the park rangers

Then Twibuke starts moving again. He walks straight through our group into the bushes – we seem like nothing to him. Patience knows what to do. With a circular motion, he guides us around the bushes. There, in a small clearing, the silverback sits calmly munching. But he values his privacy and promptly disappears into the green foliage.

 

Twibuke

 

The open space, however, doesn't remain empty for long. Inkumbuta appears, one of the blackbacks. Promptly, Kwiyongera also joins the scene.

 

Inkumbuta and Kwiyongera

And that doesn't go unnoticed – he stands up and beats his chest. Better not mess with me, is the unmistakable message. According to Patience, it's not out of the question that this blackback will eventually take over leadership of the group.

 

Better not mess with me, is Kwiyongera’s unmistakable message

Inkumbuta submits to Kwiyongera

Inkumbuta takes no chances and immediately assumes a submissive posture, lying flat on his back, all four legs in the air. Shortly after, both blackbacks are seen playfully frolicking with each other. In the hairy black tangle, it's hard to tell which leg belongs to which animal.

Then, the moody Kwiyongera gets restless again

Then, the moody Kwiyongera gets restless again. He starts stamping around, the ground sounding dull beneath his feet. Patience receives a solid bump against his thick pants, but we are completely ignored.

 

Peace reigns between Inkumbuta and Kwiyongera

Inkumbuta sits bewildered, watching the commotion. Until Kwiyongera calms down and starts playing with him again.

 

A curious female approaches…

…and waits to see what's happening

They are still busy when a female hesitantly emerges below on the path. She doesn't trust the situation. She sits there for at least five minutes, at a safe distance, before her curiosity wins out and she joins the blackbacks.

 

Peace in the group?

The open space resembles the setting of a street play, where the actors make their appearance one by one.

 

Kwiyongera continues to behave like a troublemaker

A few minutes later, a second female appears from behind a tree, closely followed by a third female with the tiny Ingamiya. Now there are three females – Tegereta, Nahimama, and Urahirwa. And lo and behold, Ntaribi also arrives, he couldn't be left behind, of course. With seven of them, they engage in some playful antics.

 

Once again, the erratic Kwiyongera is hit with a surge of adrenaline

 

Once again, the erratic Kwiyongera is hit with a surge of adrenaline. He runs around frantically, often stomping his feet on the ground or beating his chest with his fists. He drags a heavy branch as if it were a toothpick. It seems as though he's asserting dominance here.

But this perception is too much for Twibuke. With a lot of noise, the silverback emerges from the bushes to restore order. He is the boss, and no one else.

But this perception is too much for Twibuke

Twibuke restores order

Quickly, everyone assumes a submissive role. Meekly, they earnestly dedicate themselves to the ultimate ritual of peace and reconciliation – picking fleas on each other’s bodies. Twibuke lies contentedly next to his family, stretched out on his belly. Eight out of the twelve group members are present – only Umuganda, Urugwiro, Tuyizere, and Kanama are absent.

 

Twibuke with part of his group

 

And Kwiyongera? He's still not entirely at peace with the situation. Stubbornly, he continues to act as an outsider and lingers on the path. That's fortunate, because actually, our observation hour has already expired. Patience should be directing us down, but Kwiyongera is blocking our path. It's an impasse, so precious extra minutes fall into our lap. Eventually, Kwiyon­gera joins the domestic scene, and we can begin the journey back. Further ahead, we stop for lunch.

Precious extra minutes fall into our lap

At a quarter past one, we reach the Kwamukecuru parking lot, where Richard awaits us. He takes us to the shops of Bisate Market, where our certificates await. Hobbling over the stones, we return contentedly to Mountain Gorilla View Lodge.

During our treks in Bwindi and the Volcanoes Park, we've observed twelve mountain gorillas. That's nearly 1.5 % of the total world population – a startling realization.

It remains an open question how Dian Fossey would view our antics. She had a low opinion of tourists. With their eagerness to take photos, she wrote in 1983, tourists […] became almost as great a threat to the gorillas as poachers. Primarily because gorillas are highly susceptible to diseases like the flu, to which they have no immunity. Dian Fossey herself saw gorillas die from diseases transmitted by tourists. Additionally, tourists interfered with the natural behaviour of wild gorillas, thus interfering with her research – gorillas even began to adapt their behaviour.

With their eagerness to take photos, she wrote, tourists became almost as great a threat to the gorillas as poachers

Today, the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International somewhat differs in their perspective. They promote tourism because it has greatly benefited local communities. They now have a vested interest in protecting the gorillas and their habitat. Since 1981, the gorilla population has more than doubled.

But it remains a delicate balance.

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Jaak Palmans
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