Day 26: Chimpan-A to Chimpanzee.

Nyungwe National Park, Rwanda – The alarm was shrill in the way anything is if it’s trying to wake you up at 2:30 a.m. The sun was nowhere near shattering the blackness.

Instead, we had a relatively clear skyline for our journey into Nyungwe National Park, where we were to track chimpanzees this morning. The blanket of stars reminded me of the sleep I could still be having. As we wove over the Park’s bumpy roads, tail lights bobbed like sinkers on fishing lines and remainders of the other day’s landslides jutted out like ribs.

After two hours of driving, we picked up our guide and two German tourists at 4:30 and made our way 12 more kilometres back into the rainforest. The wet, rutted roads were the worst I had ever encountered, so bad our journey took another 90 minutes.

As the sky lightened, we stood waiting for the trackers to locate the chimpanzee hoots that would set our direction. We knew the primates were nearby, but were keeping silent as their day was just breaking, too. Chimps are known to travel large distances and to not remain in one place long if food is not plentiful. A tracker fooled us with his call.

And suddenly, at 7:15, four large females thundered down the hill and across the road behind us. We stood, mouths agape, at how close we had been. We barrelled into the bush behind them (well, after giving them a bit of a lead), leaving no question of stealth with our heavy footfalls. The terrain was unforgiving and I cannot say I was always able to remain on my feet. Crashing down steep, muddy hills as vines and roots alike conspired to ensnare us, we didn’t see the chimps again for another hour.

A ruckus of calls erupted from deep in the valley, seemingly taunting us.

It felt like somewhat of a cross between Indiana Jones and Mantracker, Africa edition. Sharp thorn bushes snapped back into my face and dewy ferns found their way underfoot. All at once, it seemed, I’d be pulling myself up an incline, sliding back down a hill, climbing over a slippery rotten mahogany tree and jumping small streams. Chaffing from the walking stick left blood blisters speckled in my palm. But it was all worth it.

Finally, artillery fire of half-eaten figs hailed down upon us from high up in the trees, each hitting the soft ground with a resounding thud. The entire troupe was feeding above and littering the rainforest with its remains. Branches arched spectacularly as long hairy arms swung from them with ease. As the chimpanzees climbed down to feed elsewhere, we saw that two of the mothers had babies clinging to their stomachs. They were less than six months old.

Four hours and several vertical kilometres later – after tracking the family to yet another location – we emerged from the rainforest exhausted and completely filthy. And happy.

Over the years, I have been fortunate enough to have had many unique experiences, both good and bad, but I can think of few that were more exhilarating – or exhausting. Chimpanzees possess 94 per cent of human DNA and it was incredible to share space with our nearest relative in the animal kingdom.

But how would I love to be able to have a hot shower with water pressure.

Day 20: Celebrating Nyungwe.

Nyungwe National Park, Rwanda – For three and a half hours, I was inundated with wave after wave of Kinyarwanda, and was successful in fishing out about 10 words. And yet, it was still a pretty cool afternoon.

Invited to the annual celebration of Nyungwe National Park, I sat under an orange tarp erected on jagged sticks as various dignitaries, including the local mayor, park warden and director general of ORTPN recapped the past year’s successes and paved the path for the coming year. In between speakers, a song about Nyungwe played on the sound system, and many people sang along. The crowd of about 200 people included members of the community, park rangers, military, KCCEM and ORTPN.

During one intermission, we were entertained by traditional Intore dancers, who swept across the ground, bells ringing from their ankles. It was a real treat, particularly from a cultural perspective. Professional Rwandan Intore dancers routinely win international competitions, though the group we saw today were still young. Another intermission featured a morality play about plundering from the environment.

As with any good Rwandan event, a sumptuous feast was served and, by the end of the day, crate after crate of empty soda and beer bottles were carted away. One opportunistic child located a half-finished bottle of Amstel in one of the red plastic crates and took a couple long tugs.

By the conclusion of the formal programme, everyone – men in suits and in full army gear – got up and began dancing to local music, Rihanna and Celine Dion – whom I’ve heard absolutely everywhere I’ve travelled. Unfortunately.

I felt fortunate to have experienced it.

Day 18: 3,000 Feet Above Sea Level in the Back of a Truck.

Nyungwe National Park, Rwanda – Tears flew from the side of my eye and onto the heavily armed man in worn, olive fatigues who sat next to me. A series of scars traced an ominous history up his arm and his grizzled face bore short grey stubble. The soldier’s semi-automatic rifle rested discomfortingly in the direction of my chin.

I was glad to see him smile.

We sat together in the back of a pickup truck as we took a dozen members of the Rwanda Defence Forces and Park Rangers to posts deep in Nyungwe National Park yesterday. They will spend several days in the cold, wet forest, patrolling for insurgents and protecting the area. As we made our way into the mountains, the cold wind inflated my cheeks and made my eyes water. But the views were spectacular.

The truck bed held large packs with all the supplies the men would need for several days in the bush. My feet were buried under bags of tomatoes and heavy yellow containers of water. A machete rattled against the gate. Bed rolls provided cushion for those sitting on the floor.

Setting off with their packs, one group was to hike into the hills for three hours before stopping to sleep. Young boys travelled with them, carrying food and cooking supplies on their heads. They would then rise first thing in the morning for four more hours of trekking, vanishing deep into the forest.

As we climbed to 3,000 feet above sea level, clouds filled my lungs and the chill set into my knuckles. Handling the tight curves involved alternately clinging to the truck with every turn to the right, and pushing hard with my legs on each to the left. Monkeys perched on roadside walls, watching with curiosity, and a long black bird with bright red wings flew overhead. A lengthy convoy of UN vehicles with long antennae swaying with each bump in the road passed on their way to keep peace in the DR Congo.

And rain began to fall.

Day 13: Losing Myself in Peace.

Kitabi, Rwanda – A dozen children, wearing clothes as dark as their skin, first dive into the bush, then chase after me down the road that leads into Nyungwe National Park. “Bonjour, Madame (sic). Comment allez-vous?” “What is your name?” “Muzungu – where do you come from?”

Such phrases echo behind, then alongside me, with differing degrees of both enthusiasm and timidity. They are, for the most part, greetings these children have learned in school and don’t really constitute the basis for substantive conversation. One of them appears to be trying to push her friend into me so that someone can say they touched the muzungu who had wandered past their village. They're all extremely excited to see themselves on my camera's screen, pointing themselves out to their friends.

Adults, sitting nearby and minding even-smaller children who cling to the hems of their mothers’ garments, smile in amusement and offer up a gentle “muramutse” (good morning) in reply to my greeting in Kinyarwanda. While Nyungwe is a tourist destination, most visitors simply pass through here in the blur of a hired car, and on to the area deep in the forest inhabited by chimpanzees and golden monkeys.

In other words, it’s not overly common for a 6”3 white man to casually stroll past their small plots of land, many of which are occupied by a clay house, a few stalks of corn and a cow that smells as though it has been wallowing in its own filth. Because it has been. Outside one, a one-year-old plays with a small hoe; looking around, agriculture is unquestionably in his future.

Though a little overcast, it is a nice Saturday morning in Kitabi and I had decided after breakfast to go for a walk, with no real objective in mind. Two hours later, I had left my home here behind, wandered through the buffer zone that leads to Nyungwe and up into some of the Park’s hills. It’s easy to lose track of time in the beauty and peace of these surroundings.

Once I leave the roadway, butterflies flit, seemingly aimlessly. Bright red birds scream at each other before darting across the path in front of me when I pause to breathe in the scenery. Vines tap me on the shoulder. Forest elephants used to roam these hills, until the last one was killed during the war in 1994. There’s talk about re-introducing them to the area in the near future. Branches around me crack mysteriously, and yet it all seems so quiet. Peace, much-needed.

Deeper into the forest, crickets chirp in chorus like a relaxation CD, and yet remain somehow haunting. I’ve remained on the lookout for the military patrols that roam the forest as I have no desire to be startled by a group of camouflaged and heavily armed men. They often seem to simply appear out of the forest like ghosts emerging from the low-lying cloud. Many insurgents hid out in Nyungwe following the war, though most have since made their way to the DR Congo. The military presence is here to ensure it remains that way.

It is so silent, and the hills so steep, that you can hear trucks rumbling like thunder long before you see them. Bus drivers careen around corners, the rubber of their tires barely clinging to the rims. Some honk; others wave. Shrivelled corn cobs, picked clean, litter the side of the road. It’s a common snack while driving here, and you can often see roasting pits along the way.

Thunder has begun to murmur over the hills and the first drops have begun hurtling themselves earthward. In the distance, the silky string of rain completes the tapestry of Kitabi. Emerging from the forest, I see a bicyclist making his way down the hill and, around the corner, another man who appears to be smiling in my direction.

My colleague Richard has come looking for me.

Day 12: Signs, Signs, Everywhere Are Signs.

Kitabi, Rwanda – Today is just another (chilly) work day in Kitabi, though it's the first day I've had reliable Internet access (hello, photo upload).

As systems are not as developed as I'm accustomed to, things can take a lot longer to accomplish. Case in point: Jethro had to return to Kigali today just to transfer money from his FRw account to his USD account, which are at the same bank. Yes, that's a three-hour drive away. Not only that, he is going to have cross the street to another bank in order to first exchange the currency, before returning to his bank. Sound complicated? It can be.

People who know me are aware of the small enjoyment I get from signs, products and other forms of marketing that offer some form of double entendre, or a funny inconsistency. In visiting countries where English is not the primary language, these are not uncommon occurrences. Here are a couple I’ve seen thus far.

Throughout the country, you can find several places to get your hair cut on every block. Many Rwandans take their hair pretty seriously and it's a business that seems to have flourished in cities and rural communities alike.

Throughout the country, too, you see signs like the one above and the one to the right, advertising "saloons". It’s a place to get your hair cut, not a place to enjoy intoxicants with your friends. Frankly, if you’re involved in the latter, please keep the scissors away. When I first got here, I had begun to wonder if they had all just used the same sign maker. While many list the traditionally proper "salon", I gather from the prevalence throughout Rwanda that these instead merely reflect a regional morphology of the language. It makes me chuckle just the same.

Given its mountainous topography, Rwanda is not the warmest African nation. That said, it’s certainly not what one would normally refer to as cold – particularly for someone coming from Canada. As such, I found it quite humorous that this Coke ad describes the “Brr Season”. And yes, that is an African Santa Claus. As well as another “Saloon” beneath it.

Last night, I wasn't sure if I should be reassured or alarmed when I discovered that my bottle of "pure" water had a best before date. Of less than a year from now.

While not a sign, I got a particularly good laugh at the expense of a reporter I heard on BBC Africa while driving through Nyungwe. I kid you not, he actually asked his interviewee, as a follow-up question: “So, what’s up with that?”
So?

Operation Red Blood Cells, 2009.

Kitabi, Rwanda – I blame the elevation. And the starchy foods. And the beer.

I just returned from a four-kilometre jog – er, butt-drag – through the mountains and tea fields of Kitabi. Has it really been that long since I last suited up for Starlim’s basketball team? People who know me are aware of my distaste of running for running’s sake. Sports, I love, but running to run – not so much.

I blame Christmas turkey. And long hours on a plane and in a truck. And too much time writing.

But tonight was enjoyable. The sun was setting over the hills on a clear evening that left just a hint of blush in the sky. And more than just a hint in my cheeks. Children ran after us, cheering, when we passed the village. “Funny,” Jethro said. “I’ve run past here many times before and they’ve never done that.” 

 

Chalk up another one to the muzungu.

Up the steepest final hill, a friendly teenaged boy ran effortlessly alongside, seemingly mocking us. I give him a high five and instantly realized I should have conserved the energy. Two young women who had just gathered jugs of water changed their path in order to follow us up the hill home. If they weren’t so polite – and politely giggling – they could have passed us, water jugs and all.

The sun shone behind the house like a halo beckoning us to the finish line. The way I felt, I wasn’t sure if I was really supposed to head toward the light, or not. The elevation has left the alveoli in my lungs grasping like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

Okay, I blame myself.

Day 10: Gooooal!

Kigali, Rwanda – The second the sharp header crumpled the twine, the crowd of thousands set to dancing, and to small fires. The goal had come just as injury time expired in the first half and excited Rwandans danced excitedly to heavy bass and drums for the entire intermission that followed.

Players rushed to midfield, where they knelt to kiss the grass. By that point, I wished I could do the same as I was beginning to feel the effects of the hard concrete, faded blue, which served as our seats. That and a young Rwandan had decided to attach himself to my leg.

The goal gave the home side a 1-1 draw with Cameroon in today’s Africa Youth Championship match, a score that held through 90 minutes and provided Rwanda with a berth in the semi-finals. The dancing, cheers and ululations that had tempered after Cameroon opened the scoring early in the game continued unabated throughout the second half and seemed to provide the home team with a lift.

Football plays a significant role in the culture here and I was excited to have the opportunity to take it in first-hand. By the second half, Amahoro stadium was about 95 per cent full, and loud. Some wore masks (I swear I saw Nixon), others painted their faces in sparkles the colours of Rwanda’s flag. An entire section wore the nation’s yellow jerseys. Flags, both large and small flailed proudly. A boy even wove in and out of the crowd trying to sell toques in the team’s colours. And yes, there were a few small fires lit in celebration.

Shown on the big screen, President Paul Kagame received cheers nearly equal to those of the players. When he came down to the field to shake the participants’ hands, adoration poured forth from the bleachers on all sides. It’s not something I’m used to seeing for a politician back in Canada.

Even getting into the stadium was an interesting experience. Pulling into the parking lot, a couple of young boys beckoned us to follow them to where they knew there was a parking spot. They received a couple coins for their efforts, and a few more to watch over the truck while we were inside. The entrepreneurial mindset is alive and well. In order to get our tickets, we had to wade through a deep thicket of children who were hoping to find their way inside. It also marked the first time I was asked for money since I’ve been here.

As we left, the same boys who had looked after the truck also happened to know (of course) a shortcut for getting out of the parking lot and avoiding the post-game crunch. A couple more coins and we were out ahead of the masses.

We did not end up making it to Kibuye today as planned. More importantly, Jethro and I managed to secure a meeting with Rosette Rugamba, the Director General of the Rwanda Office of Tourism and National Parks. Very well respected in the country, Rugamba has received many awards for her work toward developing tourism, while protecting the environment. With some luck, I’ll have an opportunity to spend some time working with her communications team before I leave.

We also managed to share a good laugh as we discovered this was not actually the first time we had been in the same room together, although none of us knew each other the first time. It turns out the Director General had accompanied President Kagame on a visit to Western a couple of years ago, where both Jethro and I worked. Now she’s his boss.

At its Most Beautiful.

Kitabi, Rwanda – More than 2,000 metres above sea level, my head aches and my ears have popped, feeling at moments like snare drums. The sheer beauty on which my eyes have supped today, though, has brought over me a calm as ethereal as the wisps of cloud that hang languidly between the mountains. I am happy.

Put simply, Kitabi, and this region that travels through Nyungwe National Park, provides some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve seen in the world. I cannot get over how fertile and rich with vegetation this country is; it’s as though the rains that fall paint everything green, with small speckles of pink and yellow.

Throughout the drive, I sat with my head lolling out the window like a puppy that hasn’t been outside in a week (except I kept my tongue in my mouth), taking in all the smells of the fresh air and the eucalyptus.

We drove among the clouds and above them, through rain showers and bright sun. All the while, we navigated tight turns on uneven roads over rolling hills to tall peaks. I stared in wonder at the wall-to-wall trees that towered over us, unspooling vines earthward. Small birds somehow contorted to cling to the sheer rock face. It was stunning.

We saw a number of monkeys, including one sitting in a tea field just outside the park, and another with a baby. Not realizing they existed here, too, I was a little surprised to see a squirrel dash across the road in front of us. Somehow, they do not tend to be featured among the many wooden animal carvings artisans offer to help you remember your time in Africa.

We were greeted at Kitabi by a small group of village children who had crept onto the College’s property to fill their jerry cans with water from its well. I was home (away from home).

Zebra Meets Skunk, Meets Lemur. Or Something Like That.

Nyungwe National Park, Rwanda – Toward the end of a long day spent moving south through the country from Kigali, fog seeps from the pavement as though the earth is smoldering beneath us. 

 

It dances hypnotically in the truck’s headlights as lightning briefly introduces us to the mountain peaks that envelop the serpentine curves of pothole-chocked roads in Nyungwe National Park. We’re heading to Cyangugu through Nyungwe, which is the largest montane rainforest in Africa, and whose stunning vistas will serve as my backyard during my time at the Kitabi College of Conservation and Environmental Management.

While Rwanda’s roads are extremely good – particularly for Africa – this one, winding through the park, is far from it. Already, we have seen two trucks that have driven over the edge, their drivers huddled around fires by the side of the road to keep warm. The curves are enough to become vomit-inducing, which has become the case for one of our passengers, and a few before. That it’s dark and raining lightly certainly does not help matters.

I have been fortunate to see my first non-avian wildlife of the trip: a jackal, loping along the side of the road, and an animal Jethro identified as a civet – a medium-sized carnivore with the face of a lemur that looks something like a very large skunk with a bushy tail and zebra striping on its hindquarters. Really. 

Unfortunately, I had packed my camera given the darkness, but both animals are extremely shy and seldom seen.