Home again, home again jiggity jig

This will most likely be my last post from Tanzania as we fly home tomorrow.  Internet reception has been terrible here even though this country is far better off than Uganda; another of life's ironies.  After I get over jet lag, I intend to post a few more entries to cover everything I haven't been able to post due to technological difficulties--so if you are following this, don't give up on me just yet.

Today we drove 2000 feet down into Ngorongoro Crater where we spent 6 hours racing around to see everything before our permit expired.  The government regulates the number and hours of vehicles in an attempt to preserve the conservation area, and while that is perhaps admirable, it's a bit disconcerting to see 20 jeeps surrounding a pride of 5 lions.  The guides all keep in touch with each other so the word spreads quickly when something worth viewing is discovered.  And yet, those same 5 lions used the shade of our jeeps to find relief from the sun, and as we jockeyed for position to get better photos, the lions used our jeeps as cover to move closer to a mixed herd of buffalo and zebra--hoping to make a kill. 

We took a box breakfast with us--parking in the shade of a yellow bark acacia at the farthest picnic area to unwrap all sorts of little surprises to munch on.  Janet walked over to look at something and turned her back on her breakfast for just a split second.  In no time a vervet monkey grabbed her breakfast box and tried to make off with it.  She snatched it away from him before he could open it and take out any goodies, but he got his revenge.  While we finished our treats and looked around, he took the opportunity to sit in the tree above our open jeep and pooped right into Rosemary's camera backpack.  Although Rosemary failed to see the humor in it, the rest of us quietly snickered out of earshot.

Vast herds of zebra, wildebeast (gnu), gazelle, and buffalo inhabit the crater floor--grazing on the dusty brown grass while waiting for the short rains to come.  Other creatures share the space but not in such large numbers.  We witnessed  the courting dance of two ostriches as they fanned their wings, bobbed their heads, and chased each other around the savannah.  The male's head becomes inflamed, displaying a bright red color as he shows his excitement.  Hot to trot!  We were lucky to view one of the few remaining rhino taking a nap in the middle of an open area.  Apparently, he didn't like the dry hot wind and simply stopped moving, refusing to proceed until the wind died down.  A couple of cheetah,  a school of hippo, some spectacular birds, and gigantic bull elephants rounded out the morning.  Once the rains arrive and the grass greens, the animals won't be so visible.  We count our blessings as we dash back up to the crater rim to leave by our appointed time so our guide won't have to pay a big fine.

Time to sign off as last night the lodge turned off all the lights and left me in the dark without a flashlight.  The night watchman kindly rescued me before I spent the entire night wandering around the corkscrew paths looking for my cabin. 

Potty Break

Most people here do not wear undies--hard to tell if it is because they are so poor, they lack money to buy such luxuries or because it is simply the most expedient system.  Most of our bush camps/hotels do not even have undies on the laundry list in case a man does the washing--culturally inappropriate for him to touch our intimate clothing.  After using several "potty bushes," I can see how no undergarments can expedite the process of "going" in the bush for women.  Men are SO lucky in that department--turn their backs and let 'er rip.  Because we travel in a very humid rain forest, our clothes, plastered to our bodies, stick like glue when trying to remove them for our delicate ladylike maneuvers, and they roll up together when we try to scrunch them back into position.  Then we laugh at the TP situation--damp from the environment and sticking to anything wetter than it is.  Showering at night reveals tiny balled up clumps that wash down the drain.  Now add to the mix looking for snakes, safari ants or other unwanted guests during our break and we have good reasons to jettison our undies.  We briefly considered Depends for future trips, but the issue of disposal cancelled that idea in a hurry. 

Sometimes we are lucky to have an "Eastern" toilet--basically a 5x7 hole in the ground which we straddle, holding up our pant legs and draping other belongings around our necks.  Ready, aim, fire!  Or perhaps a misfire!  At least all of our accommodations have flush toilets.  But we NEVER go there in the middle of the night without a flashlight in case a hoary spider, slithery snake, or scurrying rat decides to compete for the same space.  This trip is definitely not for wimps!

More photos

Chimps from Ngamba Island

Our First Gorillas

Up early, pack our gear, quick breakfast, then head to park headquarters for our briefing.  Our guide, the park ranger, tourists we've met along the way, and many others have told us over and over that no one can guarantee how close or how far we must walk to encounter a gorilla family so we are prepared for the worst--which could mean returning at 8 p.m. in the dark.  The park sends out an advance team to locate the place where the gorillas have spent the night and to track them from there to their present location.  Communicating by radio, the scouts tell our ranger precisely where to go.  We have each hired a porter to carry our packs and to use the "push-pull" method of getting us to our destination.  Mary, my porter, is trying to raise 3 children and take care of a sick mother with no other income than that earned from serving as a porter once a month.  Her husband ran off and has no income of his own so she grows vegetables and does whatever she can to take care of her family.  So many local people want to be porters that each one is allotted a single day per month to earn $20 that has to last for the rest of the month.  Mary tells me she is so poor that she cannot even afford to acquire the materials to make handicrafts to sell to tourists.  The park even requires each porter to purchase his/her own uniform and boots.  Yet Mary cheerfully works hard to make sure I don't slip or fall in the mud, taking my hand to guide me to the least slippery places to step on the trail.  We each carry a hand-carved walking stick to assist with our balance.

We hike for a mere 20 minutes when we hear crashing and grunting in the nearby bushes.  The trackers use sharp machetes to hack a tiny path through stinging nettles, vines, and thick undergrowth to provide us with access to a family group of 17, made up of one silverback dominant male, one blackback male (known as the babysitter because he likes to take care of the little ones and often carries them on his back), several females and two adorable babies.  Several apes stay in the tree tops to gather food and throw it down to the others so we have to watch out for fruit and nut missiles hurled in our direction while jockeying for the best position for photos.  As we approach, the ranger mumbles soft grunts to let the silverback know that we are in his territory.  This greeting means we are friends and mean no harm.  The leader grunts back to let us know that all is well and we are welcome to the group.

Photos present a challenge as the gorillas move frequently through the dense foliage, gathering leaves or fruits to stuff in their mouths.  While zooming in on one gorilla partially covered by leaves, another may be right behind us in the perfect pose.  The babies, in constant motion, jump from the "babysitter's" back to a vine to a bush to a quick spurt through the forest to pause for a brief moment on top of a stump before dashing off to tumble together in a series of acrobatics.  Our hearts practically thump out of our chests from the thrill of squatting 10 feet away from a gorilla 3 times our size, and we completely ignore the clouds of mosquitoes attacking us as we frantically click our cameras as fast as the lens will focus.  At one point, our group gets interspersed with the gorillas as we take turns crossing a bridge over the rain-swollen river.  Another moment one female struts right through the middle of our group, and we freeze in position to avoid startling or frightening her.  Suddenly, we are completely surrounded and feel like we are the main attraction as soft sensitive brown eyes peer questioningly into our own.  Each face sports scars or lines or wrinkles or nostrils or teeny ears that makes each face distinctly recognizable.  Even the shape of each head is unique, and nose-prints act like our fingerprints for identification.

Gorillas do not smell bad, but I have to say, I have never heard so much tooting in my life.  The same was true of the chimps.  Perhaps their diet contributes to the abundance of gas.  The symphony of sounds from 17 sizes of "wind" instruments tickles me--here a bassoon, there a tuba.  The assortment of farts ranges from a spontaneous 10 second duet to a trio of pop, pop, pops to short surround-sound compositions spanning a full octave. 

Uganda's Bwindi National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, contains half of all the world's existing mountain gorillas; the rest inhabit small areas of rain forest in Rwanda and the Congo.  Not a single mountain gorilla has survived in any zoo so we feel privileged to help support their preservation through park permit fees, tips to everyone who assists us in any manner, and handicrafts fashioned by orphans, widows, pygmies, women's coops or other special needs groups.  The conflict between the gorillas' need for forest habitat and the locals' need for food and water exert tremendous pressure on the environment.  Tourism provides a sustainable method to reduce poverty, to increase education and social services like hospitals and clinics (since a good portion of the money we spend in the area stays here instead of being sent to corrupt government officials), and to minimize environmental damage from traditional subsistence living like setting snares that unintentionally maim and kill gorillas and other species.  One can only hope it is enough to save this engaging endangered species.

One last post tonight while I still have internet service.  Janet, Rosemary, and I sigh and coo and giggle over all the baby animals while David and our guide ignore us.  When we have a chance, we explore on our own so we can appreciate them in peace.  Today I watched 5 baby stripped mongooses (not mongeese!) learn how to eat a 4 inch black beetle.  Mom captured the beetle and had the babies follow her into the grass where she proceeded to dismember it, chomping on it with relish until the youngsters decided to give it a try.  A great photo essay developed:  mom carring beetle, mom ripping beetle apart, mom displaying a satisfied goofy grin, mom licking her chops, babies imitating mom.

On  the way to the swimming pool a few nights ago, a trio of vervet monkeys ran across my path, stopping beside the nearest bush to turn and stare at me.  The two babies, being quite curious, inched forward, then chickened out, then inched forward a little more, then chickened out--continuing until one of them became brave enough to stand at my feet and touch my pant leg.  These are the same two clowns that showed up in our outdoor shower a little later.

On our game drive this morning, we came across a herd of kobs with one female, several young males, a dominant male and one darn cute baby.  Junior decided to pose next to his daddy, and another short photo essay developed:  dad looks at us so junior looks at us, dad looks left so junior looks left, dad takes a step forward so junior does likewise until dad decided to split and junior took off after him.

We girls have captured as many baby pics as we can:  a baby hippo nuzzling up to its mom on the river bank, a baby buffalo blending in with the dirt, a couple of baby elephants using their trunks like periscopes as they submerged in the river, twin baby baboons clinging to mom--one on top, one underneath, a baby chimp staring down at us intently from the forest canopy, and much more. 

We are astonished by the diversity and plethora of animals and the lush growth everywhere.  We expected desert-like savannas.  Instead we revel in rich jungle, dense forests, cloud covered misty mountains, and large bodies of water ranging from raging rivers to giant lakes to deep craters filled with blue water.  Ernest Hemingway loved Africa until it got the best of him.  The great white hunter's plane crashed at the base of Murchison Falls.  When another plane arrived to rescue him, it too crashed with him on board.  The third plane caught on fire, and he was trapped inside--barely escaping with his life.  Shortly thereafter he committed suicide.  He should have a paid more attention to those babies and spent less time killing off their parents!  Bwana muzungu.

New Improved Bull Washing Bar

One of my favorite things about foreign travel is observing the culture and talking to locals to learn their perspectives on life.  While driving through one small town, I spotted the "New Improved Bull Washing Bar."  How could I not have a picture of that for all my Texas longhorn friends?  Most of our travel from point to point takes us over deeply rutted pockmarked red dirt roads (since there are only 2 paved roads in all of Uganda) for bone-jarring  distances that leave us all needing a massage and a glass of wine--or two or three or heck, the whole bottle.  Our slow speed gives us plenty of time to observe each tiny village and scrutinize the countryside while pumping our driver for information.

Yesterday he told us about Ugandan circumcision rituals--ouch!  About every 3 years (or whenever the local "chief" declares), all the males from about 11-13 are rounded up for a public village ceremony to prove how brave they are and that they are truly ready to become adults.  An elder throws a rock into the air while the "surgeon?" makes a swift cut on the hapless victim.  He had better not flinch or he disgraces his family.  For those who somehow manage to become invisible or duck out, the consequences eventually catch up with them.  Edward told us about one government official who was reported as having evaded the knife (darn those public urinals!).  The tribal chief paid him a little visit to inquire whether or not this rumor was true.  When the official vigorously denied it, the chief insisted on visible "proof" which the man could not provide.  Within days man was captured, disrobed, dragged naked through the streets (covered only in gray ash) while onlookers jeered at him, and he was VERY publicly sliced and diced.

Girls, on the other hand, essentially experience genital mutilation and are held down by their male relatives while the "surgeon" carves away in a much longer and more painful process.  Several women's groups and health organizations are trying to change local customs, not only for girls but also for boys.  Some families in the bigger cities have their boy babies operated on in the hospital during birth, and there are billboards that encourage early performance of this act as a protection against aids (which it is not).  Now you might think that being born in a hospital is better than being born in the bush, but the hospitals are mostly government run, lack supplies, and charge exorbitant fees even though they are supposed to be "free."  Plus the doctors claim there is a shortage of medication, but if the patient just goes to the doctor's personal clinic, he can have what he needs for an additional exorbitant sum, and the meds may or may not be out of date or be of substandard quality.  If you want to live a long life, you had better not get sick!

Storm Chasers

Thunder, lightening, dark clouds and downpours threaten us every day, but so far our incredible luck has meant only one occasion of rain gear and lots of extra viewing opportunities as game is more active in the lesser temperatures of cloudy days.  This morning we rose early to hunt for lions.  Although they eluded us, we did photograph several kobs (a type of antelope similar to impala), some water bucks, a few warthogs and a sprinkling of buffalo.  There is something quite exhilarating about dashing down a dirt road with our heads popped out the top of our jeep, scanning the horizon for the next "target"--trying to steady ourselves against the sides of the jeep while trying to survey the horizon through our binocs.  If we do this too long, we all become quite dizzy, lose our balance, and knock into each other.  We measure our degree of fun by the number of bruises we sport.

Edward, our excellent guide, makes sure we are always the first out and the last back.  Thus we had breakfast at 10:45 this morning and lunch a scant 2 hours later at 1:00 this afternoon so we could be first out on Kazinga river channel for our afternoon game viewing via covered boat.  We spent 3 hours puttering along the river bank, watching brilliantly colored birds darting from bush to shore to tree to reeds to twigs (darn near impossible to photograph!), hippos yawning wide to show us their two-foot long teeth that can cut a crocodile in half, elephants showering in the river, and buffalo sparring with each other for dominance or wallowing in the mud while ox peckers provided a little acupuncture as they picked the bugs from the buffaloes ears and backs.  One big male peed for a full two minutes--right on top of his neighbor who didn't bother to move.  Our turn around point at the fishing village located at the mouth of Lake George gave us the opportunity to watch villagers launch their slender handcrafted boats and paddle in unison toward the open water for an all-nighter fishing expedition.  The rhythmic dip of their homemade paddles resembled some delicately choreographed ballet--almost hypnotic as our own boat rose and fell to the same beat of the incoming waves.

As we turned around to head back to the lodge, we noticed ominous black clouds rapidly descending into the valley and within seconds, the river changed from glassy smooth to 2 foot whitecaps accompanied by a strong cold wind.  Fortunately, we arrived back at the dock just in time to great the next group heading out who definitely got dumped on since it started raining buckets as soon as we ascended the hill to our rooms.  So now I'm enjoying a cushy leather sofa beside a soothing indoor waterfall, admiring the river view out the 10 x 20 foot picture window--while sipping an exotic drink called a crocodile crush.  Go ahead--be jealous!

Kyaninga Lodge, my favorite place so far, overlooks two volcanic craters that merged together.  The lodge sits on top of the tallest hill and the bungalows fall steeply down each side with LOTS of steps connecting them on a long boardwalk.  We, of course, have the farthest cabin down the hill and have to hike about 10 minutes to reach the lodge.  After dinner last night, I decided to answer email and try to post a blog so I trekked to our room to retrieve my computer.  In the short time it took me to get organized, the lodge had turned off all the walkway lights so I grabbed my brand new flashlight that is behaving like a strobe light to hoist myself back up all those stairs.  Once I reached the lodge and got plugged in, I commenced wrestling with the computer to sign on, type and retype my post (somehow I or the computer kept deleting it), and fiddle with my email account.  While working I heard little rustling footsteps across the roof back and forth, back and forth.  I'm thinking, "Oh good, I'm going to experience some nocturnal animals that my friends will miss" when a RAT ran across my foot!  Not being easily daunted, I stuffed my feet under me and continued to work--trying to ignore the little black blobs that kept darting across the floor every few minutes. 

When the night watchman kept peering around the corner to see how I was doing, I finally decide I should turn in--at 10:30--early for me.  I no sooner step out the front door than something (bat?  giant moth?) dive bombs my hair.  Taking a deep breath, I bravely proceed down the first flight of stairs with my "strobe" light into the pitch black night when I notice a long skinny dead leaf starts moving.  That's the SECOND snake we've seen today--the first being a forest cobra.  Being just a little on edge, I let a small scream escape my lips.  The night watchman comes running to assure me the snake is not poisonous.  He gallantly decides to escort me back to my cabin and turns on the walkway lights. 

After 3 adrenaline bursts, I have a hard time falling asleep--especially since I hallucinate once I close my eyes.  My eyeballs persist in seeing tiny little ants crawling all over the ceiling--probably a reaction to our morning forest hike when all of us got covered with these little pests as we tracked various troops of chimps through the forest.  Even doses of Pepto, ambien, aleve and hydrocodone can not turn off my overactive brain and I toss and turn all night.  My consolation prize is seeing planet Venus low in the eastern sky just before daybreak.  Appearing huge and misshapen, I take it as one of those evil eye amulets that will ward off any future nightly adventures.  Only time will reveal that answer.

No internet service here so I haven’t written for 3 days and already everything is starting to blur together.  Once we got past the stump storks, the leaf hoppers, and twig lizards and started noticing REAL birds, we competed with each other for the best close ups of each species.  We have identified and photographed over 140 different varieties of birds, not to mention the elephants, hartebeasts, bush bucks, oribis, waterbucks, giraffes (the rare Rothschild), warthogs, baboons, monkeys, buffaloes, hippos (including one albino), crocodiles, and jackals.  The abundant wildlife never ceases to amaze us:  a buffalo herd that stampeded across the road in front of us, two hippos that fought each other--with one losing a huge chunk of flesh on his hind quarters, the vervet monkey that charged me in the botanical garden, and the chimp that picked my nose----ewww!.

On the way to our current habitation (Nile Safari Lodge), we stopped for lunch at a famous historic hotel.  We almost didn’t get past the machine gun armed security guards as the Duke of Kent (Queen Elizabeth’s cousin) and his entourage was also dining there.  He chatted with us on his way out (kind of him since we all stuck cameras in his face).  Little did he know we would be stalking him as we followed him on our boat trip upriver to the base of Murchison Falls and trailed right  behind his jeep on a game drive.  He is touring Uganda as part of the country’s 50th year of independence celebration because he was the formal British representative who gave the country its first flag and took down the Brits’ flag half a century ago. 

Unfortunately, a series of civil wars and 2 punitive dictators (Milton Obote and Idi Amin) wrecked the economy for 40 of those 50 years and the tyrants tortured and killed perhaps a million people (no one knows for sure because so many people simply “disappeared“).  Now everyone is exasperated with the current president’s 4 terms of extremely corrupt service, but they will vote for him anyway if he runs again in order to ensure stability.  To give you some idea of the corruption, about 10% of what is budgeted for any given governmental project actually reaches the its destination.  90% is siphoned off along the way, going into the pockets of politicians, project “leaders” and relatives of those folks.

Last night we had our first “bush” shower--a couple of jugs of water dumped in a bucket attached to a shower head suspended over a stone enclosed stall.  Not being tall enough to reach the shut off valve, I had to partially climb the wall to get any water.  Lesson one:  if you have to climb a wall to reach the valve, do NOT put soap on your face first!  Lesson two:  make sure the bucket is full BEFORE starting your shower as it is impossible to summon more water when you are naked and soapy--not to mention the staff climbs a ladder to dump more water in the bucket and looks right down on where you are standing.  Lesson three:  check the shower for lizards, bugs and monkeys BEFORE locking the door behind you.  Today we used the swimming pool as our “bathtub” and rinsed the chlorine off in the shower--MUCH simpler!

Travel really messes with a person’s sense of time. I left home at 11:30 a.m. on Sunday, got to Entebbe at 10 p.m. on Monday which was really 2 p.m. the next day in Dallas.  I figure about 35 hours of travel time but 22 hours of air time. We had a stop in Kigale, so technically I’ve added Rwanda to my list of countries even though the only thing I could see out the window was the full moon.

People tell you anything when they think they won’t see you again.  My seatmate Jimmie was returning from the USA after spending 2 months there as a guest preacher for churches all over the states.  He has 3 children, the youngest only 7 months old.  He has been gone for nearly 1/3 of that child’s life!  Although his father has many wives (and many children), he can afford  only one.  With 127 brothers and sisters, he says his own family feels quite small.  His stories about Uganda under Idi Amin and Obote terrify me, but he admits that even though conditions are much better now, the government is still corrupt.  He is hoping that the elections next year will oust the 26 year president who is serving his 4th term in office--the last 2 illegally.  Jimmie has many of the same complaints that we do--too many kinds of taxes, government jobs going to friends and cronies, tax money paying for ridiculous things when the country needs better schools, roads, hospitals, and so forth.  Aids, drugs, and unemployment top the list of general problems, so large families stick together, share their money, take care of others' children, work farms communally, and divide up resources and chores on an as needed basis.  In small villages, if the drums announce a community work day, one is expected to drop everything and run to the town center to help out or face a heavy fine.  Conditions are changing and some children who are sent to boarding schools in the bigger cities decide never to return home.  Parents complain of modern influences such as cell phones, TVs, and computers that divert children's attention from strong family values.  Sound familiar?

After a short night at the Lake Victoria Hotel, we boarded a long boat for a choppy 1 hour ride across a tiny portion of the lake to Ngamba Island to the Chimp Sanctuary--home to 48 orphan chimps rescued from wire snare traps, the illegal pet trade or accidents.  Because the small island can support only 3-4 chimps, the care-givers supplement nature's pantry with a morning and evening feeding in the lock-down  area and 2 feedings through the electrified fence during the daytime when the chimps can choose to go into the forest.  Our first experience was watching the morning forest feeding.  The chimps have acquired an internal clock and know just when to show up to catch the vegetables and fruits that the rangers throw to them through the fence.  Tempers flare when one chimp invades another's territory or a bigger chimp steals goodies from a smaller one who has been hoarding whatever he could grab in 2 hands, 2 feet, 2 underarm areas, between the legs and piled on his belly.  Quite entertaining to watch the hoarder's stash go flying in all directions accompanied by raucous screams when a thief approaches!  Some grab a goodie or two and head for cover in the forest to eat in peace while others use tools (long sticks) to rescue food that didn't quite make it through the fence.  Some stand on their hind legs holding a hand up in the air as if to catch a fly ball and the rangers try to lob a tomato or banana into the waiting paw.  Still others clap their hands to draw attention their way.  At this particular feeding, one chimp that showed up late received nothing and sat there looking so forlorn, staying long after the others went back into the trees--perhaps hoping someone would take pity on her.  After our  lunch a second performance similar to the first took place.  We began to recognize 48 different personalities and styles.  One really big guy (taller than me when erect) swaggered on two feet, distinctly separated from the others by size and shape (very thin instead of stocky and solid).  Summersalts, bluff charges, courtesy bows to elders, wild gallops across the field, and other antics kept us entertained.

Between feedings we were free to roam the 2 acre compound dedicated to the "humans" on the island:  visitors (max of 8 any given night in 4 canvas tents), volunteers, researchers, and camp staff (no such thing as a single job--the cook also ran the bar and gift shop plus provided part of the evening's singing and drumming entertainment along with other staff).  Our explorations yielded a pair of Egyptian geese with 10 babies, a gigantic tree covered with neon yellow weaver birds and their pendulum nests, several large monitor lizards that persisted in digging large holes in the path in which to lay their eggs, a trio of yellow billed ducks, devoted pairs of spur winged lapwings that jealously guarded their nests containing eggs that looked just like the stones upon which they were laid (built right where guests were likely to step on them so we had to be very careful), and many other species of birds.  Although the space was small, it seemed every square foot yielded a different critter, bug, or flower to capture our attention.

At 5:30 we headed to the lock-down area, praying that all the chimps would choose to come in for the night so we could have our forest walk the next morning.  Apparently the millet gruel the rangers offered for supper worked as all 48 showed up screaming and scrambling for space at the bars.  48 hands stuck through the fence, each grasping a metal bowl into which the gruel was rationed--chimps stacked on top of each other to the top of the cage--looking for all the world like some giant pinball game.  My favorite was watching the staff help the "baby"--the only chimp born on the island because her mamma removed the "implant" that was to prevent pregnancy--learn to drink from its bowl.  After the clanking of 48 bowls being thrown to the ground, each chimp received a melon or squash or avocado that was too large to fit through the bars.  It was hilarious to watch the various antics as each chimp tried various methods to retrieve his produce.  Some juggled the thing to the top of the cage where they could bite it into smaller pieces while others simply crushed and squeezed their prize till it fit through the bars while still others smashed theirs upon the concrete and retrieved the various pieces. 

After our own dinner, we retired for the evening.  I looked forward to a night of restful sleep in a comfortable cot-like bed, but the chimps squabbled off and on all night, birds tweeted out their love songs, frogs croaked their lullabies and other unidentifiable critters added to the cacophony.  Not much sleep that night!

Red River Detour

With little over a week before I head to Uganda, of course I have to stress myself out by agreeing to help with work weekend at my townhouse in Red River.  The dogs and I are loving the respite from Dallas heat--below freezing at night!  I'm burrowing under the blankets and refuse to turn up the wall thermostat.  As the day progresses, I peel off my 5 layers of clothing till about 4:30 p.m. at which point I begin putting them all back on again.

Last night a bear showed up at the dumpster not 50 feet from my front door--in broad daylight!  My dogs went crazy.  Apparently, the bear or his buddy showed up again about 2:30 a.m., and once again the dogs went crazy.  After yelling at them to be quiet, I rolled over to go back to sleep, but they came bounding up the stairs to jump in bed with me (a BIG no no) as if to say "Mom, this is really, really important."  So we all crept onto the porch to investigate.  Every dog in the neighborhood was either howling or shrieking like he was being mauled by a mountain lion.  Even the 50 or so ducks in the nearby pond were all in a dither--such a quacking racket!  Something was out there!  My dogs growled and paced until I finally made them come inside.

Several people today told me of other recent bear stories.  Those brazen bruins are grabbing as many last minute calories as they can before they go into hibernation next month.  They'd better not grab my dogs, or I will act just like the navy seal who was guarding the goats as Rayado--Kit Carson's old historic trading post.  Last summer he awoke to the sound of a goat screaming in pain, saw it was being attacked by a bear, and promptly punched the offender in the nose!  I interviewed him the next day to find out what possessed the man to attack a bear with his bare hands, and he told me he just didn't think about it at all.  I suspect if any old bear (or person for that matter) decided to attack my babies, I just might react the same way!

After more than a year of planning, I soon head for Uganda (and Tanzania) to cross a "biggie" off my bucket list:  gorilla trekking through the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, a UNESCO World Heritage site.  Inspired by Dian Fossey's Gorillas in the Mist and being a huge lover of animals, I decided to sign up for a private safari with a small number of friends--a very small number.  Quality over quantity--as long as I can afford it!

In less than a month, I'll be winging my way to Entebbe-- a major town (so says Wikipedia--only 80,000+ people, but I guess that qualifies in Uganda) on a peninsula of Lake Victoria, Africa's largest lake.  The President of Uganda resides there, even though Kampala, the capital, is some 23 miles to the northeast.  The Entebbe airport was the scene of one of the most daring counter-terrorism operations in history when soldiers from an elite unit of the Israeli army freed over 100 hostages following an Air France hijacking by a group of Palestinian and German militia in 1976.  I'd just as soon skip that experience!

Wikipedia says many tourist attractions will compete for my attention.  Among the most promising are the National Botanical Garden (located a short distance from our hotel), the Uganda Virus Research Institute (which began as a research center for Yellow Fever and has done work on the West Nile virus, HIV, and the Ebola virus), and the Uganda Wildlife Education Center--which is also the national zoo.  

My second main objective, The Ngamba Island Chimpanzee Sanctuary, allows me the opportunity to stay at an eco-friendly 4 tent camp where I will take a baby chimp on a forest walk.  This expensive experience has come with MULTIPLE visits to a travel clinic for a long list of injections (to protect the chimps or me?) and the signing of a comprehensive release that says if the chimp hurts or kills me, no one but myself is to blame.  Am I crazy or what?  This place is supported by the Jane Goodall Institute, the Born Free Foundation and several other reputable organizations, so what can possibly go wrong?  Well, wait for the next installment to find out.  This is our very first adventure once we arrive!