Hi everyone! This is Aliza writing, one of Vince’s friends also working here in Uganda. Vince was nice enough to let me use some of his blog space to describe my weekend gorilla tracking and traveling in Southwestern Uganda.

My weekend began at 5:45am Thursday, when I left the house to travel to the bus station downtown. Those of you who know me may be thinking that it is actually impossible for me to have been awake, let alone out and about, at that hour. But I managed, found a bus to Butagota, and waited for about an hour before it left. Thus is travel in Africa. The bus ride was not very eventful, and lasted 10 hours as expected. From Butagota I got a pickup truck to Buhoma, the town outside of Bwindi Impenetrable National Park. I stayed in the Community Rest Camp there, a collection of thatched-roof huts and tents on the side of a beautiful valley with hot showers and cold beers. This was the budget option, and suited me perfectly. I got a dorm-style thatched hut all to myself, and sat on the front stoop watching the sunset while three Blue African Turacos flew by. Gorgeous.

Friday morning at 9am the gorilla trackers met near the front gate of the park, which was about 100 feet from the rest camp. We had a short pre-game session with rules, etc. and then we split into our three assigned groups. Bwindi Impenetrable National Park has the largest population of mountain gorillas—which are extremely endangered—in the world, with a little over 360 gorillas. Of those, three groups have been “habituated” or trained to be accustomed to the presence of humans. I got the Mubare group, which was the smallest with 8 members—one silverback (adult male), three adult females, and four juveniles. On the way to the trailhead, the guide told us that this group had also been habituated earliest of all the groups 10 years ago, so its members were very accustomed to humans. We hiked up the hillside for about 45 minutes following a trail, with an armed guard in the front and the back of the group. Apparently some gorilla tracking tourists had been kidnapped in 1999 by a Rwandan militia group, and all trackers must enter the park with armed guards now. There were also 2 nature guides who were experienced gorilla trackers (one of them had helped habituate our group and had a large scar on his arm from a bite to prove it). Eventually we were told to drop our packs because we were getting close to where the gorillas had been the day before. We continued through the thick underbrush in a line.

I was walking 4^th or 5^th in the group. Suddenly there was a terrifying roar and violent thrashing in the bush to the left up ahead. I was ready to run back, but I was watching the guides in the front of the line, who were standing their ground and smiling in the face of the 500+ lb silverback. They remained calm, and eventually the silverback retreated to some bushes about 10 feet away and the rest of the group and I walked forward to get a look at him.

He had a gigantic round Buddha-belly, which he was feeding continuously as we watched him. Just sitting there in the bushes, happy as a clam, surrounded by food, glancing at us occasionally. It was hard for me to stop myself from thinking that this was not just a man in a gorilla suit.

Eventually, though, he got up and we could see his full girth—he was immense!

As he moved up the slope we followed him, and he brought us to a place where one of the juveniles was sitting. This little guy was 6 years old and had therefore been born after contact with humans has been established with his parents. Not only did he seemingly have no fear of humans, but he was also very curious about us.

After watching him eat for a while he stood up as if to move up the hill where his family was, but instead started moving DOWN towards us! I was right up at the front of the group, probably about 5 ft away from the gorilla, but the guide was in front of me and started moving his hand up and down as if to say “slow down.” Then he picked up a stick and waved that up and down. The juvenile stopped, watched the up and down motion, mimicked it with his hand, and then put his hand over his face as if realizing he’d done something wrong and registering shame. He then turned around, walked up the mountain away from us, lay down on a rock, and took a big shit.

Near the end of our hour with them, all of the 4 juveniles gathered together in a sort of clearing in the jungle. One of them climbed up a tree, and 2 of the others found vines to swing on. It seemed like they were putting on a show for us, swinging towards us, grabbing other vines near us, chewing on the vines, looking directly at us. Just as we were about to leave one of them swung toward us and continued moving toward us with an outstretched hand—trying to touch us! Amazing. I can say I came THIS close to shaking the hand of a baby mountain gorilla.

The whole thing only took a few hours (we were lucky that the gorillas were so close—other groups had to walk for hours to get to their group, and each group only gets one hour with the gorillas) and I walked around the nearby town in the afternoon.

I had been hearing about a celebration taking place nearby on Saturday from some of the other people at the camp, and a pre-med student from Columbia who was in my tracking group confirmed it. Michael, the Columbia student, was volunteering for the summer at the local clinic, which was set up and managed by an American doctor, Dr. Scott. Dr. Scott did a lot of work with the local pygmies (Batwas), many of whom were forced out of the forests where they lived when the national park was set up. He had organized a celebration to bring the pygmies together (and to the clinic in case they needed medical attention), and to showcase their unique culture. Of course, I could not pass this opportunity up and arrived at the clinic Saturday morning for the festivities.

There was a lot of talking, singing and dancing. I was expecting the pygmies to look very different from the other local people, but I couldn’t really see much difference except that they were generally shorter. There was a dance competition before I left, the winners of which received a cow.

Michael also showed me around the clinic and I got to meet Dr. Scott. The clinic was really nice for this part of the country, and included a beautiful little guest house for students and visitors. Dr. Scott also mentioned that in your 3^rd and 4^th years you can do rotations here, accredited through Columbia and Tulane. (Hint hint all you med students). Definitely something to consider.

I had arranged a private car to bring me, a guy I met at the camp, and a guy I met in one of the local shops to a nearby town called Kabale. It was supposed to come at 2 but arrived after 6 on Saturday. Nevertheless, it brought us to Kabale and then dropped me off at Lake Bunyonyi, a lake I wanted to visit. When I got there it was dark and I was exhausted, but in the morning I could see how spectacular it was. Unfortunately, I soon realized that my transportation situation was somewhat grim as it was Sunday and public transportation is sketchy on Sundays. I really wanted to be back in Kampala by Sunday night to be at work on Monday, so I asked the people in the office of the place I was staying what I should do. They told me there was a family leaving that might be going to Kampala, and I should ask them.

Enter the Nielsen family, some of the nicest people I have ever met. With huge smiles on their faces, they agreed not only to drive my sorry ass back to Kampala but also to stop in Kabale for a quick errand I had to run. There were three of them, mother, father and son (the attractive and charming Simon, who I got along with wonderfully), from Denmark, traveling for a week after working for a week in an area closer to Kampala. They were there to set up a project with a local primary school in the name of Simon’s brother Thyge, who drowned swimming in the Nile 3 years ago. Simon spoke much better English than his parents. He talked about Thyge, who was only 1.5 years younger than him, often, sometimes forgetting to put his words into the past tense. It was a sad story, but the family was happy and loving and there to turn a tragedy into something very positive. They absolutely refused to let me pay for anything all day long, taking me to another national park and paying my entrance fee, and buying me lunch. It was as if I was part of the family for the day. When we were approaching my drop-off point in Kampala I handed the mother some money and told them that this wasn’t for them—it was a donation to Thyge’s school library project fund. The mother started crying and I gave her a hug. I really hope to see them again some day.

That was the end of my weekend! It was nice to be home, and I was greeted by Vince and the lovely Paula, a new addition to our little family. You can see a picture from last night’s family portrait session below.

Now, back to Vince!