Gorilla tracking, day 2
The chance to see mountain gorillas in the wild draws many tourists to Uganda every year. For Craig and me, gorillas were only one of many attractions in this beautiful country (chimpanzees! tree-climbing lions! and don’t forget all the amazing birds!) — but they were definitely high on our list.
So when we were planning this trip… Correction: When I was planning this trip — Craig is more of a seat-of-the-pants traveler — Kelly, a travel agent who has booked many tours to Africa, suggested that we do two days of gorilla tracking, rather than just one. Her argument was that on the first day we would be so overwhelmed that we wouldn’t be able to fully take in the experience. A second day would gives us a chance to immerse ourselves more completely. I agreed and Craig demurred, so I went on the second trek by myself. And I’m extremely happy that I did!
Once again into the woods
The second day’s adventure departs from Buhoma, about five minutes from our lodge, and the initial procedures are much the same as the first day: sign in, sanitize, check temperatures, get oriented, divide into groups (this time our cohort includes a nice group of Manitobans nearer to my own age), and set out to meet our gorilla family. Remembering how difficult was the little walking we did on our first day of tracking, I have asked Hassan to have me put into a group that will not be walking for too many hours before finding gorillas.
We have a forty-five minute drive to our access point, where we meet our porters. As we pull up, we see a group of them running along the road to join us. My porter this time is Regina, who tells me at the end of the day that she ran for two hours up the road, in order to accompany us on a four-hour hike. Wow.
Armed with walking sticks, we set off into the forest. To my relief, we are not climbing up steep slopes or through stickery thickets but taking a pleasant walk on a well-maintained path. The terrain here, though it has its ups and downs, is not nearly as steep as what we encountered the day before — this is a lovely walk through the deep woods.
More help than I want
Despite the relatively gentle terrain, Regina — and the other porters, as well — are extremely solicitous of me. Someone’s hand is at my back every time we go up any sort of hill, and Regina guides me carefully across even the slightest marshy or slippery spot. She pulls me to the front of the line whenever we start walking, so I can set the pace. At one point she picks ferns to fan my overheated face; at our lunch stop she collects leaves to make me a comfortable seat on a fallen log. She tells me she wants to treat me as she would her own mama, who coincidentally is just my age. I’m touched by her solicitude — and also a bit irritated by it.
After half an hour of this white-glove treatment, I begin to suspect that I was too insistent in asking Hassan to get me into the shorter-walk group — and that he has been too zealous in complying. He later admits that he told the porters to treat me like a princess (presumably the sort of princess who couldn’t sleep if there was a pea under her mattress!). Well, they did as he asked!
As someone who takes pride in being independent and self-reliant, I find all this solicitude hard to swallow. At home, I would manage this sort of hike easily enough on my own, so it galls me to have someone always helping me, as if I can’t manage for myself. At the same time, it seems churlish to refuse assistance so kindly intended, so I swallow my pride, grit my teeth, and give Regina my hand.
Gorillas at play
After about an hour and a quarter of walking, our head ranger, Costas, leads us off into the bush in a direction determined by reciprocal hoots between him and the trackers. Using a small sickle, he clears a path, which occasionally requires tromping over uncertain ground covered by trampled bushes. Twenty minutes later, we find the trackers — and the Muyambo Family of gorillas.
Such a different experience from the day before! For one thing, we are arriving later in the day, so breakfast is over. Instead it seems to be nap-time for the adults (two large females and an enormous silverback) and playtime for two lively youngsters.
The kids amuse themselves — and us — by repeatedly climbing to the spindly tops of small trees, which bend and then break under their weight, dumping them unceremoniously — and apparently unhurt — to the ground. They wrassle together, bumping into the adults, who ignore them.We humans spend our allotted hour watching in amusement and delight, taking photos, and trying not to get in each other’s way. We move around the little family, shooting from different angles, trying for the best light, the best framing. Though the posted rules recommend keeping eight meters apart, the gorillas don’t seem to have read these regulations, for they occasionally come much nearer, sometimes passing within a couple of feet of their curious visitors. Eventually, they settle down to lounge or play, depending on age and predilection.
The adults watch impassively as we circle their group, taking photographs. Our rangers offer reassuring grunts of “Oof, oof, oof,” at any sign of agitation from the gorillas, and I can’t help wondering what these creatures make of us. Are they simply waiting for us to leave so they can go about their day’s activities? Do they have much more interesting business to see to, once we’re out of their way? Are they perhaps observing our behavior as we are observing theirs?
Almost human
The antics of the rambunctious youngsters remind me of young humans at a playground, with trees for jungle-gyms — or is it the other way around? When the guides point out another mother with a month-old infant nearby, we move over to watch this display of maternal care. It’s a magical time.
The adult gorillas’ faces seem almost human, as they gaze solemnly back at my camera. I fancy I can read their expressions, which strike me as grave, thoughtful, intent but untroubled. Wise, perhaps? Oddly, I’m also struck by how like humans in gorilla suits they seem. All very confusing! I want to make a connection with these remarkable beings, which are at once so like and so unlike us, to somehow bridge the species gap between us. And yet all I can really do is watch them, take pictures, and rest with gratitude in the wonder of their presence.
ASIDE: Perhaps the temptation to anthropomorphize is more justifiable with gorillas, with whom we share 98% of our genetic makeup, than with most other members of the animal kingdom. When I think of Koko, who learned sign language from psychologist Penny Patterson and developed a rich relationship with her, my desire to read thoughts and emotions in our gorillas’ faces makes some sense.
A delicate balance
For national parks like Bwindi to be viable, the Uganda Wildlife Authority must maintain a symbiotic relationship between the parks and the communities whose lands have been set aside for conservation. The UWA’s guiding principle is community conservation, which “encourages dialogue and local community participation in planning for and management of these resources.”
There are practical dimensions to this approach. For example, although community members cannot hunt or farm inside the park,
[they] have regulated access to some key resources that may not be found outside the protected areas, such as medicinal herbs; papyrus and vines for handcrafts; fish; firewood; bamboo; bee hives; and water access in the dry season or drought.
We were also told that in regions where protected animals prey on local livestock or damage crops, farmers receive compensation for their losses (though I could not find this information on the UWA website). In addition, local people find work in various capacities in the parks — and in the lodges around the parks. Some lodges, like the one we stayed in, are actually owned and managed by the local community.
And, of course, tourists infuse millions of shillings into the local economy (which is not difficult, a million Ugandan shillings being worth less than $300 at this writing) for the privilege of seeing protected animals in their natural environment. If no one wanted to see the gorillas, would people still want to protect them? I hope so. But I’m glad to think that our visits benefit others — gorillas and humans — besides ourselves.
A blessing on the mountain gorillas:
May they thrive and their numbers increase.
May their young always play freely on their jungle gyms.
May they live forever unmolested in their forest home.
2 thoughts on “Gorilla tracking, day 2”
Dear Jenny, The intimate images combined with your very personal account of these treks into the wilderness warms my heart. At a time when so much of the information shared across time and space is devastatingly sad, your hope-filled missives are such a balm. Thank you for gifting us with your journeys! Lisa
Jenny, It was entrancing just now to read the fascinating description of this part of your Uganda experience and see your wonderful stills and video. Your account of conflicting feelings in response to others’ solicitous attentions brought a rueful smile of recognition. Muchissimo thanks! Judith Ann
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