Back From the Congo, and Wow

I'm now in a town called Kabale in southwestern Uganda, soaking wet after getting caught out in the street in a heavy rainstorm. We returned from the Congo late last night to a town without power or a cell phone network, so we decided to push on to the next biggest town. It was an 80km drive, but somehow took 4.5 hours.

The trip to see the gorillas yesterday was absolutely incredible. Our "program" started with a briefing the evening before with our Congolese contact, Daniel, who was as full of histrionics as he was of booze. He delivered a two-hour grandiloquent speech filled with approximately 10 minutes of content. One 15-minute soliloquy was on the subject of how a gorilla is different from a goat (hint: gorillas are not tied to a post in your backyard like a goat is). Another was on appropriate attire, but we couldn't seem to get Daniel to get any more specific than the general category of "bring clothes", which he pronounced "cloatches". Despite the briefing being light on details, or even any relevant information whatsoever, Daniel's excitement and enthusiasm were contagious, so we went to bed that night excited for the day ahead, and a bit apprehensive that Daniel was our man leading it.

After a rough 30-minute drive over what could only generously be called a road, we arrived at the Congolese/Ugandan border. Getting out of Uganda was easy enough, though the sign "You are now entering Zaire" did not inspire confidence that the DRC's proceedings would be equally painless ("Zaire" officially became the DRC in 1998, so the sign hadn't been changed in almost 10 years).

Now, my comfort level at borders is generally inversely related to the number of men standing around idly with guns over their shoulder, so the Congolese crossing was a particularly uncomfortable one. Why RPGs are a necessary tool of military border guards is beyond me, but the Russians must have at one point had a fire sale because AK-47s and RPGs are about as common at the Congolese border as entry cards at other borders (incidentally, no entry card is required for the DRC, just $30 in U.S. currency).

After waiting aimlessly and seemingly for no reason at all, we were eventually granted entry. I wasn't allowed to take any photos at the border (I did anyway, but the connection here is too slow to post any), but it basically looks like this: dirt road with a small pole laid across acting as a barrier; lots of men and young boys dressed in 2nd-hand western clothing, often from the U.S. (I saw a WSU Cougars sweatshirt); young men on this giant wooden scooter-like vehicles loaded up with bananas and other produce to sell in Uganda; a small collection of dilapidated buildings; a wooden desk and a chair under a sign labeled "immigration" and 10 men standing idly behind it in normal street clothes; a few trucks with goods; and lots of men with guns, including the occasional pickup that would drive through with men and RPGs and machine guns in the back, generally looking pretty intimidating.

On the drive up to the park entrance, again over roads only passable by 4x4, we passed a lot of local farms and small villages. Most of the people here live in mud huts supported by bamboo and covered by thatched roofs. The soil is good here, so they grow sorghum, potatoes, green beans, and other assorted produce like tomatoes to live on.

We didn't pass another motor vehicle the entire time we were in the DRC, but we passed loads of people on the street who were for the most part very friendly and waved at us as we drove by. On arriving at the park entrance (which, by the way, is still signed "Albert National Park" from ages ago, even though it's now called Virunga NP), we were met by our contingent of armed guards--approximately 10 in total. We had another couple of guys with machetes to clear the trail, and a few trackers to locate the gorillas. We'd picked up a few more tourists, too. Two middle-aged Austrian women who were about as friendly as a block of ice, and a nice British medical student who was doing a neurosurgery rotation here in Uganda. With my Swedish friend Johan, that made five of us tourists in total.

The rangers carry AK-47s, partly to scare off elephants and buffalo should you encounter them (which we did, on the way home), but mostly to shoot poachers on sight should they be found. And they shoot to kill, though I'm pleased to report that there was none of that going on while we were there. These rangers work really, really hard, trekking up and down the mountains each day, covering 20-30 km round trip, and risking their lives to protect the gorillas.

We were after one family in particular called Mapuwa, which consisted of one silverback (26 years old), five females, two juveniles (4-6 years old), and four babies for 12 individuals in total. The species is mountain gorilla, or gorilla gorilla berengei after the guy (German, I think) who discovered them). The mountain gorilla is different and more rare than the lowland mountain gorilla. They only live in this part of the world, in a lush and mountainous region that spans Uganda, Rwanda, and the DRC. The lead ranger told us that at the last census, in 2003, they counted 432 gorillas across all three countries. There's another 150-250 in a nearby national park in Uganda, making for roughly 700 total in the world. So when the DRC loses 12 gorillas to poaching, which they have over the last two months, they are losing something like 10% of the total population that inhabits their end of the park. It's quite sad really, but the DRC gov't is infamous for pocketing all of the permit fees, and leaving the rangers and nearby farmers who are affected to fend for themselves (unlike Uganda and Rwanda, which do a good job of redistributing the economic gains).

Every day the rangers are up there with the habituated gorillas, which is only a small percentage of the total gorilla population in the park. Gorillas don't move very far from day to day, so it's not terribly hard to find them if you know where they were the day before, which the rangers did.

It's a hard slog through dense forest to get to them though. It took about three hours of trekking uphill to get to the family. First through incredibly dense, impenetrable forests in the lowlands. Then through huge bamboo forests that would groan in the wind like a ship against its lines. And finally through low shrubs which enabled a wonderful view of the volcanoes above and the green hills below, and would be lovely except they are full of nettles so strong they sting you through your pants. We walked with our trousers tucked into our socks because parts of the forest floor were covered with pesky fire ants that crawl right up your shoes and legs as you walk over them, and hurt like hell if you get bit.

We finally found the gorillas on a steep hillside full of dense vegetation, seeing first one of the babies then the silverback taking a nap with his arm covering his eyes, just like a human would. The next thing you immediately notice is the smell--a thick, sour, nasty smell that stays with you all the way back to Uganda. I can only imagine what Dian Fossey must have smelled like after weeks up there with them, especially since I frequently saw photos of the babies hanging off her arms and crawling all over her.

I was really surprised by how close the rangers let us get to the gorillas. I was sitting so close to the silverback that I could have reached out and touched him, which is what the babies were frequently doing to us. Each time they did so, the rangers would slap their arms away and utter grunts that are remarkably similar to how the gorillas sound. The rangers seem to have worked out an elaborate communications system with the silverback. When we first approached the family, from a distance the ranger called out a grunt that seemed to say, "Is it okay if we approach?" And the gorilla grunted back, "Rock on man." Then as we got closer and closer the ranger would continue to ask permission, and the silverback would continue to grant it. Right up to the point where we were sitting among them and couldn't possibly have got closer without laying down next to them.

We spent an hour with them, which is enough time to see how remarkably similar to humans they are, but hopefully not enough time to seriously disrupt their daily lives. The babies wrestle and roll around and climb strands of bamboo until they fall over and play tag, just like young kids do. The adults are much more chill, either casually eating or resting or grunting to each other. It's shocking, actually, how habituated and used to humans they are. You can see how the poachers have an easy time of it. I never felt threatened or scared in the slightest, even when the silverback (which is absolutely massive) was staring me right in the eyes. It was all very peaceful; these guys got a bad rap from King Kong.

When our hour was up, we headed straight down the mountain, cutting a path rather than following the circuitous route we took up. We were back at the park entrance by 4pm, and back at the border by sunset. It took so long to get our passports and papers in order that we had time to have a beer at the local watering hole. Congolese beer isn't so bad actually. What was bad was getting asked for money by young guys (army, I suppose?) with AKs over their shoulders. I'm used to getting asked for money by young ones, but adolescents with guns is a new one for me. Thankfully, I just casually ignored this guy and said hello to his friends, and that seemed to resolve the whole thing.

We got back to Uganda last night, just in time for another incredibly unimpressive meal at our guesthouse. The town we're in is so small that you've got to eat where you're staying, and order well in advance at that.

All in all, it was an incredible experience. The only complaint was that we got squeezed for more money than we were originally quoted. Things like "administration fees" of $20, and "extended transport fees" of $50. I guess that's to be expected, but gosh it would be nice if a quoted price actually meant anything around here.

This morning we left Kisoro for Lake Bunyoni, but got stuck on the road behind an accident and then in a rainstorm which made the progress slow on the muddy road. So we'll probably stay the night in Kabale tonight, Lake Bunyoni tomorrow night, then I'll begin my journey home on Monday morning, which won't end until I get to Seattle on Friday morning.