Day 38: Going Grey.

Goma, DR Congo – Driving through Goma at dusk, as we did last night, can be likened to being an extra in an old black-and-white film. It’s moderately surreal and volcanic ash from an eruption three years ago has tainted everything in hues of grey. Even the colourful African fabrics women wear are muted.

People paid us no mind and, despite constant reminders of the conflict that has plagued the region for more than a decade, it is obvious life goes on here. Fancy leather shoes hung from boards on the main street, men rode large, handmade wooden scooters and people continued to carry-out their tasks in the market.

Goma is very dirty, though, and fires of lit cardboard burned on the sides of the main road. The smell cuts at your nostrils. Gutters overflowed with refuse of all varieties and goats rooted through it. I temporarily lost my appetite for brochettes. Black volcanic rock has been salvaged and used for fences, but the buildings carry a sooty reminder reminiscent of parts of London, England.

Though we passed a house where each room was made from old shipping containers, Goma, much like Kigali, is witnessing a construction boom. Enormous mansions are being built right in the city, proving there's still money in the region. And presumably, some degree of safety in the city.

The UN maintains a large camp at the airport and the vast white sea of its shelters, trucks and armed vehicles contrasts dramatically with the black tarmac. Its peacekeeping force in DR Congo is the largest in the world. While I’ve become moderately accustomed to the presence of automatic weapons in Rwanda, a couple Congolese soldiers we passed carried handheld grenade launchers. Serious stuff.

I can imagine the conflict here has gone on so long that, for many, theatrics in the region simply play in the background, like white noise. I'm sure they'd still like it to come to an end.

Day 37: Conservation of Leadership.

Goma, DR Congo – Six stacked tables over which a large white tablecloth had been draped served as the backdrop for our presentations in the grand meeting hall at the Ihusi Hotel today.

As the tropics seeped through the windows, words in English and French hung in the humid air. Translation flowed like a discordant echo. Air conditioners, meanwhile, lined the room, sitting silent, as fluorescent lights winked awkwardly. The crushing roar of UN planes taking off and landing nearby shook the walls, often drowning-out the microphones.

Jethro and I were co-facilitating sessions about leadership and management for 30 senior conservation officials from DR Congo, Uganda and Rwanda on behalf of KCCEM. The trans-boundary meeting is being led by the International Gorilla Conservation Programme to provide updates and to discuss conservation efforts, environmental sustainability and community development. As the United Nations has declared 2009 to be the Year of the Gorilla, it also served as an opportunity to discuss events for the coming year.

As seems to be inevitable, we were required to reorganize on the fly to manage time. One key presenter arrived five hours late and had not yet even begun drafting his slides. Needless to say, the schedule went into the blender. Our sessions were fairly well received and provided me with an occasion to present and discuss theories of leadership in both English and French. It was a great opportunity, with one more day to go.

On an interesting cultural note, people are often given a cash per diem and certificates of attendance for coming to such conferences and meetings. Otherwise, many don’t come.

Day 36: Going, Going, Goma.

Goma, DR Congo - It's a byline that scares many from the western world. "Goma." "DRC." But the guns aren't sounding nearby and, in fact, I'm in one of the nicest hotels I've been to in Africa (the Ihusi).

Travelling from Kitabi this afternoon, the roads were lined with banana palms, which are erected along roadsides in Rwanda for weddings and for government officials. Given the sheer number that pointed our way to Gisenyi, we gathered they indicated a significant event. It certainly wasn't for us. In fact, all of the Rwandan government (more than 200 people from the Director level up) are meeting for a retreat in the lakeside town this week. Needless to say, security is high.

Though the process was a little lengthy as officials scrutinized our passports and examined a letter of invitation that had been prepared to ease our transit, we made it through the Congolese border without any difficulty. The sheer number of UN trucks (and UN planes that flew overhead) and Voluntary Repatriation Manifests that had been casually stacked onto the counter in the immigration office was a little sobering, however. I have never before been in a country engaged in a civil war.

Not that you can tell, where we are. It is humid, tropical and the mountains loom over the shimmering blues of Lake Kivu. People laugh, share beers and welcome you to what may be an oasis in the midst of madness. The sounds of birds merge with the waves, lapping against the shore. A man dangles his pole for small fish to add to his ugali. And a gunboat patrols the lake.

It's hard to believe that within a couple hundred kilometres down the road, six million people have died in this conflict over the past 11 years.

Day 35: The Road to Kigali.

Kitabi, Rwanda – Like the spokes on a (very curved, and very hilly) wheel, all of Rwanda’s roads lead to the capital city. As I alluded to yesterday, this is a very Kigali-centric country and it is hard not to pass through it, regardless of your destination.

It is Rwanda’s power base and home to much of the country’s wealth. Most professionals work in Kigali and many of those employed elsewhere maintain homes there. Even though the trip from Kitabi takes more than three hours, for example, most of the staff here at KCCEM begin their pilgrimage home each Friday, as do many who work at the National University of Rwanda, in Butare. For more than a million people, it is home.

It's hard for me to believe, but this is my last full day in Kitabi, though I have a bit more than a week left before I depart for home. Tomorrow, we head to Goma, DR Congo, where I will be co-facilitating a two-day session on leadership and management for the International Gorilla Conservation Programme.

And yes, we’ll have to go through Kigali first (though if a straight road existed to Gisenyi, which is opposite Goma, the six-hour trip would be reduced to one).

Day 22: A Change of Pace.

Kitabi, Rwanda – Now halfway through my stay in Rwanda, I can hear the ominous ticking of the clock as time evaporates into the thin mountain air. With the realization of what we have accomplished already, and what we plan to do, my schedule has begun to fill quickly.

I have been working at the Kitabi College of Conservation and Environmental Management (KCCEM), which falls under Rwanda’s education and tourism sectors. Thus far, most of my time has been spent on the education side, editing manuals, a strategic plan and curricula – 130,000 words and counting. Over the next few weeks, however, I have been asked to devote efforts to the tourism side and will be making my way around the country to take photographs and prepare written materials.

Given my love of exploration, wildlife, writing and photography, it’s really not a bad deal.

Thus far, our plans involve visits to the country’s three national parks, including a middle-of-the-night trek far into Nyungwe to track chimpanzees and possibly golden monkeys. Deep in Parc National des Volcans, where Dianne Fossey conducted much of her research, we hope to get close to some of the last mountain gorillas remaining in the world. Giving our legs a break, we’ll finish in Akagera National Park, which is located in the only region of Rwanda that is arid savannah. It is also home to many of the animals one generally associates with Africa.

During my remaining time, I’ll also have opportunities for other personal experiences. My friend and colleague Richard and I are planning to take a bus to Kampala, Uganda, and I’ve been asked to help facilitate a session for the International Gorilla Conservation Programme in Goma, DR Congo. Right before I return to Canada, I’ll be attending a colleague’s wedding in Cyangugu.

It promises to be a busy few weeks, but a period rich in experience.

Make a Run for the Border.

Cyangugu, Rwanda – Today was a pretty non-descript day of work, planning and editing at the retreat, but I did take time to look out from the patio where I was working outside and marvel at the sun shining down on the mountains, the exotic birds chirping all around me and the proximity of DR Congo, right across the lake. In short, it was pretty cool – there are worse ways to work. And yes, I’m well aware of how lucky I am to have this opportunity.

At the opening of the retreat, we learned the meanings of everyone’s names in Kinyarwanda, which varied from “Always exceeds expectations” to “By the glory of the grace of God”. It was neat to hear the cultural relevance of their names and we discussed whether naming children in this manner was believed to help them become self-fulfilling prophecies. We were told there’s a saying in Kinyarwanda that is roughly “Your father may not hit you, but may curse you with a bad name.” So, I guess the answer is yes.

After the day had wrapped, a few of us decided we wanted to go down to the DRC border to ask if we could take a step into the country and pose with the Welcome sign. Zany, perhaps, but some of the group has done it before and it’s not usually a problem. Today, however, the border was a little too quiet as the thousands of people who cross it every day for work had already made their journeys. We made it to within a few feet, but turned away.

I have spoken a lot of French today, getting to know some of the KCCEM staff a little better. Many speak Kinyarwanda, Kiswahili, French and English, but a number feel more comfortable speaking to me in French. It’s also likely that doing so slows me down a bit and makes me easier to understand than I am in English. It has left my mouth sore from using muscles I use so seldomly, but it was also rewarding to carry-on conversations for a half-hour at a time without many struggles, particularly given my usual hesitancy to speak the language.