Boomerang

I traveled to the DR Congo in 2005.  In hindsight I would have liked to have written of my experience whilst I was there when everything was fresh in my mind.  However, recounting my experience was very easy as moments like these will never be forgotten. 

July 25th. Gorilla Eve. The excitement around the campfire that night was unsurpassable. Tomorrow it would be the jungle we were to unwrap, and our gift, the chance to see some of only 700 highly endangered Mountain Gorillas left in the world.

We had traveled a long way to get to this point, and that was an amazing journey in itself. Through the poorest, roughest, dirtiest back roads of Uganda our safari truck battled across boulders, and down gullies sometimes 3 feet deep and tilting the truck on a 45 degree angle.

Having previously traveled through Kenya and Tanzania the poverty and living conditions once we crossed over to Uganda seemed to worsen, and the desperation and helplessness in the eyes of the people seemed to increase.

As our truck wound along a steep single laned dirt track high up through the mountains children appeared out of nowhere to take up chase in the dust flung out from behind the truck. Although they were such young children it was evident they weren't playing, this was not a game for fun – it was for survival. Along the way up to 20 children ran and ran for miles at a time,  dust flying up in to their eyes and face, but their little lungs and little legs kept on carrying them. Then I did it. I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do, but given the living conditions these children were born in to I felt it was far from the wrong thing to do. From our food supplies at the back of the truck I took a bunch of bananas and dropped them out the window. They bounced along the dirt track and were snapped up in squabble of a dozen or so kids. I hoped they would share. It got me thinking. If I knew I was the fastest runner out of the entire group and a big bunch of bright yellow bananas landed in my arms, would I grab them as tight as I could and run as fast as I could in to the jungle, or would I stop and share them with my 100 or so brothers and sisters. I decided I would share, and I believed these kids would as well.

That evening, with our bellies full of warm stew, we sat around the campfire enjoying a couple of Uganda’s finest brews, and listening intently to our local guide explaining what to expect the following day – Gorilla Day. Depending on the location of the families of Gorillas we would either be traveling in to Rwanda or the DR Congo early the next morning. Both places not rating highly on popular tourist destinations, however, I was excited by the opportunity to experience life inside one of the world’s most dangerous countries.

Not long after dawn we walked across the border to the tarnished soil of the Demographic Republic of the Congo. There were seriously armed officials everywhere, but also many children armed with seriously beautiful smiles. It instantly saddened me to think of the death, destruction and brutality these big brown eyes had witnessed.

We congregated outside a government building. It was sprayed with bullet holes. Hopefully no more would be added today. I swallowed hard.

Gathered around us were a group of local children, observing us as much as we were them. A young boy had spotted a tiny corner of my muesli bar poking out from my pocket. He tapped my ever so gently on the hand and pointed to my pocket, all the while gazing up at me with a big cheeky tender smile. How could I say no. I put my finger to my lips as if to say shhh this is our secret. He nodded in acknowledgment. I smuggled the boy my muesli bar knowing if we were spotted it would open up a huge can of worms. I saw him grab two other boys then the three disappeared. A short time later I felt the same gentle tap on my hand. Great I thought, they are back for more and I have nothing to give them. But no, they had returned simply to thank me before disappearing again. Perhaps my questions of sharing had been answered right there.

We boarded our mini van to be transported to the base of the mountains. In our van were our guides and our armed protectors. I’m unsure if they were there to protect us from the gorillas or the guerrillas. At the time I deemed it inappropriate to ask and left my mind debating the outcome. Here I sat, in the middle seat behind the driver, his passenger, a khaki clad man with a giant machine gun resting between his knees. Next to me was Osama Bin Laden, also with a huge weapon, and to my other side a bearded machete wielding man. There I sat wide eyed. Nervous and excited. I always get the good seat. His high speed driving in an overloaded, unroadworthy van still wasn’t enough to keep my over active imagination from freaking myself out. As foreign voices crackled over the two way radio I invisioned myself as the modern day Diane Fossy. Then I pictured my mum sorting through thousands of photos of me trying to find just one picture for the evening news that didn’t have me drinking some form of alcoholic beverage.

We made it to the mountain base and set out on foot. We walked a short while through the fields where women clad in beautiful cloth worked tirelessly, children strapped to their backs. Some places you visit the locals are always happy to see you and give you a smile and a wave. These women never even made eye contact. I’m unsure of the reasons.

In single file we began the ascent behind our guide who slashed through virgin jungle with his machete. Bringing up the rear were his armed friends.Still hadn’t worked out the gorilla or guerrilla bit yet. He informed us that it may take only an hour to reach the Gorilla family, or it could take up to 8 hours depending on where they slept the night before and where they had moved to. I was Ok with this. The more jungle he slashed, the blunter the blade became, and the harder it would be to get my head unexpectedly sliced off.

After an hour we came across some fresh poop.  I had never been more excited to see faeces in my life. They were close. The guide parted the vines and lying on a nest made of broken branches and leaves was a mother and her baby. They were just lazing around playing, like they were waiting for us to arrive.I was standing less than 4 feet from them. They were so gentle and appeared completely relaxed with our presence. Everyone was speechless. We watched the females and the young for around half an hour then we found the silverback. He was much less active and sat with his back to us eating. Next thing, he jumps up and charges right for us, teeth showing, beating his chest.  The silverback stopped within a few feet from me. Others were frightened. I thought it was awesome.  Check that one off the list – being charged by a silverback! As much I begged our guide to stay we weren’t able to due to the permits only allowing a small amount of visitors for a limited amount of time.  It was back down the mountain to wait at the border for the other groups to return.

This gave me a good six hours to spend playing with the local kids. I showed them my photos of the gorillas, as well as photos of themselves, neither of which they had ever seen before. I then played soccer in the dust with half a drink bottle as a ball.  Once we had all been reunited safe and over joyed it was time to leave the Congo and head back to Uganda. The bare footed children walked us to the border holding our hands.

After returning to camp from one of the most unforgettable days for many reasons I took some time out in my tent. As I was laying there with the front flaps open children started walking past. Ten, twenty, thirty, maybe more. All I could here was laughter and happiness. Then rows and rows of big radiant smiles beaming through the nightfall. I waved to them but really didn’t know what was happening. It turns out these children were from a local orphanage for children whose parents had died from aids and they had come to our campsite to perform song and dance as a surprise for us. There were boys, girls, tiny kids to teenagers. They sang and they danced their little hearts out for us.Their energy and spirit was so mind blowing and so uplifting.  I had tingles down my spine and tears in my eyes. At the end of their performance they invited us up to dance with them. Here we were, Craig and myself, two fortunate laid back kids from Oz, along with our other traveling companions from right across the world dancing together with these African children in the middle of nowhere under the Ugandan stars. Electric.