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.