Gorillas In Our Midst

A visit to see the mountain gorillas is the reason why most tourists travel to Rwanda, and although I had come here to learn about the country's history and the chilling results of its colonial past, I could not resist the chance to see these remarkable animals in their natural setting. I should mention at this point that for this segment of my trip I have been joined by Simon, an old high school buddy of mine. With the exception of having a bladder the size of a nine year old girl he has proven to be an excellent travel companion. Best yet he came with a car, without which we would never have been able to cover so much of the country or reach such remote areas. To him I will always be indebted for the thrill of setting out by car through Africa.Rwanda is known by its native inhabitants as "the land of a thousand hills" and seen from the air it is a quiltwork of rolling hills as far as the eye can see - until you reach the West that is - there the Virungas, a massive chain of volcanoes dwarfs all else. Like jagged green pyramids they rise from the horizon with their peaks shrouded in mist almost constantly. Thier five major cones span the borders of three countries - Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. They are also the only place on earth where the mountain gorilla still exists in the wild.

The road up to the Virungas is really a rocky path between farms which in some places has waist-high ruts and soccer ball sized boulders which forces one to creep along at just a few kilometers per hour. As we scrambled up this track children came out of the woodwork to get to the side of the road in time to wave and scream out to our car. Many of them ran along side for as long as they could keep up. Some managed to thrust their crayon drawings of gorillas up to our windows as they ran, beaming with expectation. I could not resist, and not having any smaller notes was forced to buy the whole lot, making a few young artists very happy.

After some hours we reached the end of the road and were met by four armed guards. They would occompany us for our protection, "in case we meet the soldiers from the Congo," our guide explained. We were each issued a carved walking stick and then we marched off, two soldiers in front two in back, single file.

Being the most densely populated country in Africa, no inch of soil goes to waste in Rwanda. The base of the Virungas is no exception, and the beginning of our trek brought us through neatly terraced farm land. Because of its volcanic history, the soil here is dark and moist, entirely unlike the rest of Rwanda which is rather red and dry. We made our way through rows of potatoes and fields of permethrine - a plant used to create insecticide. Women working the fields stopped like statues and pivoted with their loads balanced on their heads to watch us as we passed by. We eventually reached a wall made of piled stones which marked the division of the cultivated land from the edge of the forest, and protected each from the other. Our guide stopped us here while he explained what we could expect once in the presence of the gorillas. We listened as he struggled to find the words in English to prepare us, often resorting to acting it out.

A low guttural sound almost like a belch would signal that the gorillas were comfortable, "like the cat's purr," he said. That sounded good. If they were agitated we would know it from the silverback, the patriarch of the entire gorilla group. First he would rise to full height and beat his chest, creating a pock-pock sound that could be heard from a great distance. Barks of annoyance would be followed by an explosive roar and a shrill scream and the bearing of his teeth. At this point we were all to assume the most submissive posture imaginable and under no circumstances run. This would normally constitute the end of the silverback's highly ritualized form of intimidation. If however, he felt his supremacy was not yet accepted widely enough, he would begin to pound the ground before him with both hands. This would signal that he was about to charge. There wasn't a lot of good that running would do at that point. That seemed to suffice.

We scrambled over the wall and crossed into the forest on the other side. We followed a muddy path up the mountain left by wild buffaloes, at some points having to crawl through the vine-tangled network of tunnels that penetrated the thick jungle. Stinging nettles left their odd bite on any skin that happened brush against these strange plants. We trudged on for close to two hours until we reached a certain elevation and the forest changed. Now we could walk easily through open glades of thin bamboo trunks. A web of animal trails meandered through the toppled colums and luxh foliage above concealed the sun. I began to wonder how our giude had any idea which way we were going. After some time he seemed to have arrived at some point and he cracked on his walkie talkie and began to speak in Kinyarwandan. There was a pause, and then a voice replied. These were the trackers that actually spent the night on the mountain following the movements of the gorillas. They were not far. We reached them in a clearing. They looked like part of the forest with their green uniforms, rubber boots and machatees.

The gorillas were very near now and we followed one of the trackers through the thick vegitation. Without warning, one of the trackers pulled back a layer of branches to reveal a hulking mass of black and silver fur. "Holy shit - it's a fucking gorilla," I think was my exact thought to be honest (any student of mine that should stumble upon this site - note that I did not say this out loud). Despite the morning's anticipation I found myself entirely unprepared for actually seeing a gorilla up close. But there it was, sprawled out right in front of me, massive. We were much closer than I had ever imagined, just a few feet away from him. It was the silverback of course, and there was more muscle in his head than in my entire body. He was laying on his side with his arm tucked under his head like a pillow. His eyes were groggy but they were open. I half expected him to have the jerky mechanical motions of an animated puppet from a them park ride, but he was real all right. He reached down to scratch the top of his foot and then raised his arm back to rest on the top of his head. Then he sat up, smacked his lips a bit, and had a look around. He looked sort of like a host who was slightly embarrassed that his guests had arrived and caught him in a nap.
We cowered in front of him, but he didn't seem the least bit disturbed. Most of all he seemed remarkably human and alien at the same time. His every little movement struck me as oddly familier. Here was this strange thing that spoke the same body language as us. When I collected myself enough to give him a good look I discovered the most incredible thing - when you stare into a gorilla's eyes, they stare right back. There was an undeniable recognition there - something not present in other animals. I had no problem understanding what it was that kept the famous primatologist Dianne Fossey compelled to stay among them as long as she did. Then there was the gorillas incredible acceptance of us. He could have run away as easily as he could rip my arms off, yet instead he tolerated our presense. I couldn't help thinking that if the mountain gorilla had the demeanor of another animal, or a human for that matter, this tranquil encounter could never be possible.

Under the careful watch of the silverback the rest of the group slowly made themselves seen. Directly behind him was a mother nursing a baby that peered out from her arms. Two other adult females lay off to one side with their heads propped up by a hand under their chins, starring. In the brush two adolescents tustled. We crouched in silence marveling at the family scene in front of us. Another adult male came into view and sat down right in front of us. It's left wrist stopped at a stub and our guide whispered that as a baby it had lost its hand in a poacher's snare. 'When this happens the silverback has no choice but to tear the hand off', he explained. I looked at the animal quitely eating in front of me, and thought about the strength and the pain involved in the events our guide explained. It made me think about all the bad things that go on down in the valley below and I felt as humble as if I had done it all myself.

Our guide broke the silence to tell us that we had five minutes left and that if we were to stay any longer it might stress the gorillas. Visitors are only permitted one hour among the gorillas and it passes quickly. Not wanting it to end, I placed my outstretched hand open on the ground next to me. I thought to draw back, but I had already sparked their curiosity. The two adolescents who had been sitting off a little distance cautiously made their way over to me. I tried not to move. together they leaned in to to give my hand a sniff.