The Camp of the Saints

A few days after I arrived back in the U.S. I went to a comedy show with my brother.  One of the comedians did a skit about how, “When I was a kid if I wandered out of the front yard my mom would tie me to a tree.  Now there are kids walking all the way from Honduras to Texas.”  WHAT?  I have to admit I didn’t know about the so-called “Border Crisis” until that comedy show because we didn’t get any news about it abroad.

I recently read the book, The Camp of the Saints.  The book was written in the early 1970s by Jean Raspail about a mass immigration which led to the destruction of western civilization.  In the story nearly a million people board dilapidated ships in India and sail to France.  It takes two months for the ships to make their way to the Mediterranean, and the majority of the book focuses on the attempts of the western governments to figure out how to handle the approaching ships.  There is a significant amount of debate by various parties about whether the ships should be sunk to prevent the passengers from landing where they are not wanted, whether aid should be given to assist them and then they should be encouraged to go elsewhere, or perhaps, even continue circling the globe as a new, floating nation-state, or whether they should be welcomed with open arms and provided with food, medicine, lodging, etc.  Ultimately, as the ships approach French shores there is mass chaos as many private citizens flee to surrounding nations, the government and army essentially break down entirely and abandon their posts, and the few hold-outs are brutally robbed, raped, murdered and run out of their homes.  The illegal immigrants become an invasion that destroys everything in its wake.

When I was in Africa I was in a number of countries with refugee camps.  I don’t think the situation with the illegal immigrants flocking to the U.S. is a refugee camp situation- yet- but it does remind me of them.  I was reading recently that the reason so many unattended children are among the mass of immigrants is because the Dream Act and a law stating that children from non-border countries can be granted asylum.  I don’t claim to know the full details of that legislation, but I understand that before any decision is made regarding whether someone is granted asylum or returned home that they are being transported to shelters for medical attention.  Hearing about the more than 100 shelters set up across the country for these immigrants reminds me of the refugee camps I saw in Africa.

When I was in Congo I drove through a refugee camp which was opened 20 years ago after the Rwandan genocide.  Still today nearly two million people live in that camp.  The people living there are criminals who would be tried by The Hague for war crimes if they returned to Rwanda.  This refugee camp which has been in existence for two decades is barely five miles from the border with Rwanda.  The crazy thing is that once you cross the border into Rwanda there is another refugee camp.  This camp is maybe two miles over the border in Rwanda.  The camp still stands but it is empty.  I asked my driver about the empty camp.  He told me that the camp remains intact because whenever rebel action in Congo gets really bad hundreds of thousands of people cross the border.  Whenever the action dies down the people return, but it is, according to him, a major challenge for the Rwandan government to get them out of the camp and send them home.  He said the government will often dismantle the camp with the people still in it, forcibly take them to the border, and then they will rebuild the camp a few days later because they know they will need it again shortly.  Very often when they begin tearing down the camps the refugees will fight back and flee into the forests because they would rather wander around on their own than go home.

 

I don’t know what will happen regarding this current “Border Crisis.”  It sounds like this Dream Act may be becoming a bit of a nightmare.  But the one thing I did learn in Africa is that once you open your doors it is very hard to close them, and almost impossible to return to sender.

Umuganda Day

Last week when I was in Rwanda I noticed something HIGHLY unusual for Africa.  This:

Do you see it?  No?  Ok, here, look again:

Seriously? You don’t see it?  Ok, let’s try this one more time:

You STILL don’t see what I see?  Maybe I should have said, “Look what you don’t see in Rwanda.”  Here, let me give you a point of comparison.  Take a look at Nairobi, Kenya:

Or, in an effort to be very direct, here is Congo:

Now look back at the Rwanda pictures. Can you see the difference?  There is no trash in Rwanda!  NONE!

I actually didn’t realize the lack of trash in Rwanda initially until a friend was driving me around and all of a sudden I said, “Why is it so clean here?”  According to the guidebooks Windhoek, Namibia is supposed to be the cleanest city in Africa.  Having visited both Windhoek and now Rwanda I must disagree.  Kigali is the cleanest city in Africa, and Rwanda is the cleanest country, hands down.  

Typically in Africa when something breaks there is no attempt to repair it.  Is sits where you leave it until it disappears, which may be never.  If you are finished using something and don’t need it anymore, you do the same thing, toss it out without any attention paid to where it lands.  Thus, Rwanda is a very unique case study in this “all the world’s a trash can” culture across the continent.  I asked my friend about the unusual cleanliness of Rwanda and he said, “We adopted a shift in attitude and belief system and now everyone takes part in it.”

Apparently a few years ago the President of Rwanda decided to create Umuganda Day which takes place from 8am to 11am on the last Saturday of each month.  During these three hours all citizens are expected to participate in volunteer community service in which they clean streets, manicure green areas and repair public facilities.  It took about four years for everyone to really adopt the practice, but it has become so ingrained in the culture that people now make an effort to keep their community tidy on a daily basis.  I think there is a good possibility that the creator of Umunganda Day was a form Disney cast member as all the Rwandan residents have embraced the walk and scoop.

A Few Final Pictures from Congo

While there are 54 countries in Africa, a lot of those nations may look very similar to the outside observer.  And for good reason.  Many countries across Africa suffer from some of the same challenges: poverty, food shortages, health problems, etc.  In many ways Congo looked similar to several other areas I’ve been to, but there were a few distinctions, or at least phenomena which were more prevalent here than in other places, that I wanted to share.

Petrol (gas) stations were few and far between.  I think I only counted three the entire time I was in the country.  So aspiring entrepreneurs will travel into town, purchase fuel, and then sell it in plastic water bottles scattered throughout the country.  If you remember during Hurricane Sandy last year New York residents began showing up at gas stations with empty 5-liter water bottles, or plastic gallon milk jugs because all the retail stores ran out of gas cans. But the gas stations refused to sell to anyone without a proper gas can due to safety regulations.  Congo does not appear to have those safety policies in place: (Sorry, you need to turn you head 90 degrees to the right.)

In 1994 after the Rwandan genocide, two million genocidaires crossed the border into Congo in less than a week to avoid being prosecuted for human rights violations.  The UN and international community set up refugee camps to accommodate the massive influx of people.  Those refugee camps still exist!  And they extend for MILES.  The reason those people are still refugees after 20 years is partly due to the fact they don’t want to go to jail for crimes during the genocide, and part of it is because they simply don’t have the money to return to Rwanda or move elsewhere:

During the volcanic eruption in 2002, the water pipes in Goma were destroyed.  They are attempting to lay new pipes, but I’m told digging through hardened lava is quite a chore, so it is slow going.  Similar to the fuel-filled water bottle ventures, here are people filling jerry cans in Lake Kivu and then cycling around town selling them:

As I mentioned, part of the reason for my trip to DRC was to visit the Tourism Program at the University of Goma:

The class I visited:

Do you see the wooden bike on the right hand side?  These things were all over the place in DRC.  It was the main method for transporting goods since no one really owned a vehicle:

And finally, the Nyiragongo Volcano:

Overall, it was an interesting trip to Congo.  I’m glad I went and can’t imagine ever going back.  But if nothing else, it gives me a new appreciation for… EVERYTHING.

FORGIVENESS

As I mentioned in my two previous posts, I am here in Kigali, Rwanda during the 20^th Anniversary Remembrance Celebration of the Rwandan Genocide.  I attended a remembrance celebration this evening, but out of respect for the many survivors who shared their stories I did not take any photos.

Over the last three days I’ve met countless survivors.  I think the thing that strikes me most about all these encounters is how everyone, regardless of what side they were on, can openly talk about this atrocity.  And not only can they talk about it, they have made a conscious decision to move on with life without holding a grudge. 

Several years ago I dated an Israeli Jew.  One day we were in a restaurant, and he walked away for a few minutes.  When he returned I was talking to a German couple at the next table.  My boyfriend was completely offended by this, offering the explanation, “I hate Germans.”  When I asked him why he said, “the Holocaust” as if it was the most logical reason ever and I was stupid for not realizing that.  I thought it was a rash judgment; after all, it had been 65 years.  Not to mention, it wasn’t those exact Germans who had killed the Jews.  Point being, he held a grudge.

Today I met a young man named Frederick who was six during the genocide.  He had both his arms cut off with a machete.  He was such a happy person, really full of life. You would have never guessed he was missing two limbs. Yesterday I was introduced to Angelique who lost her parents and all four of her siblings.  She was adopted by an aunt after the genocide and ended up writing a book about her experience.  But I think the most remarkable encounter I have had here was a married couple, Jean-Pierre and Patrice.  The two were neighbors growing up.  Patrice was 11 and Jean-Pierre was 15 at the time of the genocide.  Jean-Pierre KILLED Patrice’s family during the genocide.  Years later, after Jean-Pierre served his prison sentence, they met again.  Jean-Pierre asked for forgiveness.  Eventually Patrice forgave him.  They later married.  I never thought forgiveness could be attained at such a level.  I think if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed this was possible.

There is a lot of hatred in the world.  And I think that’s truly unfortunate.  I believe my visit to Rwanda has been the most impactful experience I have ever had.  People always ask me of all the countries I’ve visited which is my favorite.  I have never been able to give an answer to that question.  But I honestly think my mind is made up: Rwanda is my favorite country.  I have never witnessed such a dedication to humanity and peace demonstrated so honestly.

I wish more people would visit Rwanda.  And I wish more countries that are suffering from conflicts would examine Rwanda as a case study of what you can accomplish when you all agree to get along.  If Rwanda can recover and prosper after such horror it really makes me wonder, “Why can’t we ALL just get along?”

A Visit to the Kigali Genocide Memorial

Today I went to the Kigali Genocide Memorial.  If you are unfamiliar with the Rwandan genocide, here is the Cliff Notes version: The Rwanda genocide took place over the course of 100 days in 1994.  There were two major ethnic groups in Rwanda: the Hutu (84% of the population), the Tutsi (15%) and the Twa which accounted for a mere 1%.  Rwanda was initially a German colony, but after World War I Germany was forced to relinquish all its colonies.  As a result, Rwanda was bequeathed to Belgian.  The Belgians put provisions in place to make the Tutsis the major ruling class; due to the fact Tutsis had features which were considered more similar to Europeans, such as their small, narrow noses, tall height, and lighter skin.  Identity cards were issued which stipulated to which ethnic group a person belonged.  This led to the establishment of group identities- prior to this time there was little effort made by Rwandans to differentiate themselves according to ethnic group.

Towards the end of the 1950s, Belgium began preparing to grant Rwanda independence, and with that instituted a democratic election process.  Naturally, due to the fact Hutus constituted the majority of the population, they won the majority of the elected positions.  The Belgians realized there was no turning back and thus reversed their position, now showing preference to the new Hutu ruling class.  After nearly four decades of repression the Hutus began lashing out at their former oppressors, the Tutsis.

Violence against Tutsis occurred sporadically until the early 90s, causing many Tutsis and moderate Hutus (Tutsi sympathizers) to flee to neighboring countries.  In attempts to institute rule of law, repatriate refugees and dismantle rebel armies the Arusha Peace Process occurred, with little success.  Upon returning to Kigali from the Arusha Accords, the Rwandan president’s plane was shot down on April 6, 1994, which set off the genocide.  During the next 100 days nearly a million people, mostly Tutsis, were killed throughout the country.

The most unfortunate thing about the genocide was that no western country was willing to involve themselves in an effort to halt the killings.  Only six months prior the U.S. had suffered the Black Hawk Down situation in Somalia and refused to get involved in another African skirmish.  Here’s the thing: Very few guns were involved in the genocide because almost no one in the country owned a gun.  The vast majority of the killings were either the result of being hacked by a machete or beaten with a club.  Farm tools were the weapon of choice.  Perhaps a few tanks and guns from a peacekeeping force would have made a difference.  Nevertheless, it’s too late now.

As I was saying, I went to the Kigali Genocide Memorial today.  I haven’t been to the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. but I have been to the Dachau Concentration Camp.  But I’m not comparing.  The Kigali Memorial was well done:

Since it is the 20^th Anniversary Remembrance there are a lot of people coming to the memorial this month to pay their respects.

There are fourteen mass graves at the memorial where nearly 250,000 people are buried.  From time to time, as building occurs around Kigali and the nation, more victims are found and brought to rest in peace with others who lost their lives:

By the time the killings ended, barely 300,000 Tutsi survived.  Prior to the 100 days of violence there were about four times that many Tutsi in Rwanda.  That equates to 10,000 people murdered each day, 400 per hour, 7 every minute.  What an unfortunate waste of life.

Good News Guest House

I spent most of yesterday travelling and arrived in Kigali, Rwanda early this morning… at 2:10am.  Unfortunately, due to the middle of the night arrival the person who was supposed to pick me up from my guest house failed to show.  (It was an honest mistake. He thought he was supposed to pick me up the following morning.)

Typically, arriving in the middle of the night in an African country can be a harrowing experience, especially when your ride is nowhere to be found.  This scenario is normally a huge security risk as you don’t know who to trust, and you are a bit of a sitting duck, so everyone tries to help you.  Ultimately you have to depend on someone and there is always a 50/50 chance they will rob you and potentially do worse.  Though I was hesitant and a little apprehensive with everyone at the airport offering to help me it ended up working out fine.  And around 11:30 this morning I checked in to the Good News Guest House.

I am always quite thoughtful and thoroughly investigate everywhere I board when I travel and this time was no different.  In case you are unfamiliar the Good News Ministries is a Catholic lay ministry organization.  The Good News International Organization (GNIO) is affiliated with the ministry, and the Good News Guest House provides funding for GNIO.

GNIO was founded several years ago in an effort to provide assistance for orphans and family members of the 1994 Rwandan genocide victims.  The GNIO founder, Ben, is also the owner of the Guest House.  Why did Ben start GNIO?  Because his entire family was killed in the genocide.

From the front it looks pretty basic:

But check out this gorgeous garden:

And the view of Kigali:

A Very Busy Few Months Ahead

One of the interesting aspects of being a Fulbrighter is that you are given a lot of freedom.  As long as you are fulfilling your obligations to your host institution it is up to you how you spend the rest of your time.  There are no hard and fast rules in terms of what you are expected to accomplish, which is a good thing as red-tape and politics can make some objectives much more difficult than others.

Last year before I came to Botswana I contacted another Fulbright Scholar.  I asked about the process you had to go through in order to get permission to do research.  She informed me it was much more arduous than in the U.S. and that while she had applied for a research permit in August it wasn’t granted until May.  She left in June.

Fortunately for me I didn’t have nearly as difficult of a time obtaining my permit and IRB approval to conduct my research.  But a lot of that is pure luck; catching the right person who actually knows the answer to your question on a day when they are happy and willing to help you. 

Over the past seven months I have been busy teaching, doing research and travelling.  Most of my travel has been work related for data collection or serving as a guest speaker at other universities, though some of it has been for fun as well.  Since I arrived back from Christmas I’ve had several tourism colleagues throughout the continent invite me to visit them at their universities to guest lecture for a few days.  In order to juggle all the requests, along with other side trips I wanted to take before I left I decided to sit down and plan out the next six months.  Thank goodness I did otherwise I would have never been able to squeeze in another commitment.  This is my calendar for the next six months.  All of the shaded blocks are when I am travelling:

To give you a rundown here is what is on my calendar:

Tomorrow: Head to Cape Town, South Africa for three days to teach at Stellenbosch University.

March: Johannesburg for three days to obtain my DRC visa and visit a colleague at Vaal University with whom I am writing an article.  Then on to Lesotho to visit some of our students currently there on internship.  From Lesotho, go to Mozambique to meet a fellow Fulbrighter for some fun. (This trip takes place during our mid-semester break.)

First week of April: Zanzibar, Tanzania to meet an Egyptian friend who lives in Nairobi, Kenya to hang out on the beach for a long weekend.

Middle-Late April: Fly to Kigali, Rwanda to teach at the Rwanda Tourism University College.  From there head to Goma, Democratic Republic of Congo to teach at University of Goma and then climb the volcano over the weekend.  On the way home stop in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia for three days to give Ethiopia a chance to redeem itself after the luggage fiasco.

May: Amanda and Ashleigh come to visit me in Botswana!  Finally, I get to play host to friends from home.

June: Back to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Then Dad comes to visit for 10 days and I get to show him around Botswana.  The day Dad departs I go to Mauritius where I am presenting two papers at a conference.

July: Perhaps return to the U.S.? 

I would have to say if nothing else I have certainly taken full advantage of my time here.  And I think Fulbright has also gotten its money’s worth. I may have to give my passport a rest whenever I finally make it back across the ocean.

My 24 Hour Unintentional Visit to Ethiopia

After my visit to Uganda I was supposed to go to Rwanda for a few days to teach at the Rwanda University Tourism College.  Despite all the best laid plans, This Is Africa, and my plans quickly went to hell in a hand basket.  The Kampala to Kigali flight was only 40 minutes, so even though it was a night flight I figured I would arrive in enough time to actually get some sleep in my hotel.  Far from it.

The flight departed promptly at 12:30am Sunday morning.  At about 1am the pilot announced we would be landing very soon, “There is a little mist over the Kigali airport, but it shouldn’t affect our landing.”  Not five minutes later the pilot informed us the mist had become too thick and we would have to circle the airport for a bit.  After an hour of circling the pilot informed us we were running low in fuel and had to return to Kampala.

We arrived back in Kampala right around 3am to find the Kigali airport was “closed” until dawn.  (Important background information: After dropping half the passengers in Kigali the plane was supposed to continue on to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.) After sitting on the tarmac in Kampala for two hours, the pilot made the call that he would take everyone to Addis and then those of us who were supposed to go to Kigali could catch a direct flight later that day.

At 7:45am we arrived in Addis where NO ONE gave us any information or made any effort to help us.  We weren’t supposed to be in Ethiopia, so we couldn’t go through Immigration.  So we were stuck in limbo, like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.  The 40 or so of us Kigali passengers stuck together, but no one would give us any definitive answers.  Apparently the answer to everything is, “You have to speak to a supervisor.”  Funny, we NEVER found a supervisor.

Around 8:30am after being left alone at the departure gate, despite none of us having boarding passes, one lone gate clerk appeared and told us he only had about 25 seats on the flight.  That caused the expected outburst of anger from the crowd.  At this point I realized I probably would not be going to Rwanda.  And at this point I really didn’t want to; I just wanted to go home.  I have to say Ethiopia has the worst hospitality of any country I’ve visited. After more than 40 countries, that is a pretty harsh criticism coming from me, particularly because I tend to be a pretty level headed and understanding traveler; it takes a lot to get me bent out of shape.

After watching the chaos of one gate clerk trying to issue 25 tickets to 40 angry people I decided to leave and figure out another alternative.  At this point I learned Addis does not have iron-clad security which most airports attempt to claim.  I walked out through the security gates, without getting a visa or entry stamp.  Then walked through an “Employees only” door because I thought it might lead me back onto the tarmac, which, thankfully, it did.  I thought at this point I should be getting myself arrested (which I figured would be helpful because then someone would HAVE to help me) since I was a civilian walking across the tarmac underneath the parked airplanes and around all the fuel trucks.  Somehow NO ONE saw this as a red flag!

I went to the Ethiopian Airlines Arrivals and Transfers Desk where I was ignored until the one desk clerk finally told me she’s not helping people; I needed to get in the next line. “This line?  The line where everyone is standing, yet there is no one at this desk to help anyone? Oh, great, thanks for letting me know I should be in THIS line.”

After about twenty minutes I arrived at the front of the line because the deaf Chinese family of 7 in front of me decided they had wasted enough time and gave up.  Shortly after, another desk clerk appeared to assist customers!  YAY!  I explained the fact I couldn’t get on the Kigali flight because they didn’t have enough seats for all of us.  I asked her to just send me home to Gaborone.  Thirty minutes later I finally got a new ticket, leaving this morning to Johannesburg and continuing on to Gaborone in the afternoon.  This meant I had to spend last night in Addis.

I spent the next hour getting through Immigration, followed by harassing the baggage claim attendants.  Apparently, they scan the barcodes on the bags as they put them on the planes.  But, they do NOT scan those barcodes as they are off loaded.  So, they couldn’t tell me whether my luggage had been removed from the plane or where it was, in this or ANY country.  I’m thinking I will never see that bag again, which is particularly disappointing because the hiking boots for my Kilimanjaro climb in less than a month are in there.  If I don’t get the bag soon I need to buy some new boots immediately so I can start breaking them in.

My lack of confidence that my luggage will ever surface emanates from my time spent in the baggage area yesterday. Imagine a baggage claim area with 8 conveyor belts.  All conveyor belts are continuously moving with luggage, but every square inch of flooring between the belts; you know, where people normally stand and watch the belts in hopes of finding their luggage?; every square inch of floor space is filled with unclaimed luggage.  So passengers are literately climbing over mountains of luggage looking for their bags, while also hoping it might fall off a conveyor belt.  I watched this scene for about an hour while Blen, the baggage claim lady, who I told I would tip $100 if she found my luggage, manually searched for my bag.  In the end she couldn’t find it.

I couldn’t take it anymore. After three hours in the Kampala airport, 8 hours on the plane going from Kampala to Kigali to Kampala to Addis, and then another 5 hours in the Addis airport trying to get things sorted out, I left for my hotel.  I was too exhausted from the travel and lack of sleep, and my nerves were completely shot from the stress that I didn’t even play tourist.  Normally when I get “stuck” in a new city I will at least make an effort to see something, anything.  Not this time.  I checked into my hotel, took a nap, watched some tv and then went back to bed until my flight this morning.  And my two flights today were wonderful.  I’m always happy to get back to the Gaborone airport.  I’m happy it’s my home airport because it’s probably the easiest airport I’ve ever been through.  And I’ve never been so happy to be back as I was this afternoon.

Penetrating the Impenetrable Forest

Last Christmas when I was back in Baltimore visiting my parents and agonizing over whether or not I would be awarded the Fulbright Fellowship I spent one sleepless night looking at the top tourist destinations and experiences in Africa.  I figured I might as well hope for the best and daydream about some related trips in case I received the Fulbright.  Fortunately the Fulbright came through, and I am now crossing things off that list.

One of the most highly recommended “things to do” in Africa was to take a trip to the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest in Uganda to track mountain gorillas.  This is what I’ve been doing for the last few days. There are several reasons this is such a sought after trip.  First of all, the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest survived the last Ice Age, when practically all of Africa’s other forests disappeared. It is also a rainforest, and because it survived so long the diversity of flora and fauna is greater here than elsewhere, even by normal rainforest standards.  But, while rainforest is great, the primary reason I came here was to track mountain gorillas.

There are fewer than 800 mountain gorillas alive.  Typically when you go to the zoo or see gorillas in captivity they are lowland gorillas.

The mountain gorillas live only in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda and Uganda; about half the population is in Uganda.  Due to the fact there are so few mountain gorillas there are a lot of measures in place to protect them.  For instance, you can’t just wander into the forest looking for them.  You must apply for a permit through the Ugandan government.  The permit is $500 and that’s just for permission to go into the forest.  It doesn’t include the money you pay for your travel to get there, your accommodations, trackers or guides.  Since the government doesn’t want too many people in the forest, only 24 permits are granted each day.  And there is a long waiting list to get your permit.  I put my name on the waiting list back in January and got the call in late September that there was a spot available.

I know I sometimes talk about seeing monkeys and other animals with such frequency that it seems as if they are just hanging around waiting for people to look at them.  And sometimes they are, especially in the case of the vervet monkeys who aren’t just “hanging around” my neighborhood, but also trying to become my new roommates.  But this is not the case with the mountain gorillas.  You have to work hard to see the gorillas.

On Saturday Catherine (a woman from the UK with whom I booked the trip through the safari company) and I were driven about 12 hours from Kampala (the capital of Uganda) to Bwindi, which is the southwestern most point in the country, right across the border from DRC.  The first 8 hours of the drive weren’t bad, but the last 4 hours was hellacious as it was over rocky, dirt roads, and it is rainy season, so there was lots of mud.

The next morning we assembled at the park headquarters for our briefing and assignment.  We were assigned to the Habinyanta gorilla family which consists of about 19 members, including about 3 babies.   The “trackers,” who work for the park service, had left an hour previously and were searching for the gorillas based upon where they had last been spotted the evening before.  Catherine and I were put into a group with 6 others, which is policy, as they do not allow groups of more than 8 to track for a given family.  We were then driven, along with the rest of the group, about an hour away (also through rocky, muddy, dirt roads) to the area from which we would start our hike.

As we began our hike we were advised to rent walking sticks and hire porters so they could “push you and pull you and carry you if you have a hard time.” I didn’t think I really had any need for a porter, but James was my savior. A lot of the terrain was steep and slippery, so it was good to have someone else to help with balance and climbing over fallen tree trunks, etc.  By the time we finished the two hour hike to the point where the trackers had found the gorillas we were dripping in sweat.

But it was totally worth it, because when we arrived this is what we saw:

The gorillas were relatively comfortable with humans, as you can see here; I was probably about 8-10 feet away:

Once I finish editing the 600+ pictures I took of the gorillas, I will post some more for you to see.  Sadly, the pictures don’t convey the experience at all, but they are a great memory of something very few people ever get to do.

Heading to the Pearl of Africa

Tomorrow morning I am going to Uganda.  Uganda is a landlocked country is in East Africa surrounded by South Sudan to the north, the Democratic Republic of Congo to the west, Rwanda and Tanzania to the south and Kenya to the east:

Uganda is a peaceful country, but few people tend to realize that.  I think that is one of the major problems for Africa; the media and the images people have from past struggles are hard to erase.  I remember when I first went to Sierra Leone.  Before I departed everyone asked if I was worried about going to a war-torn country.  Despite the civil war and blood diamond trade having ended more than a decade previously, people were still under the impression it was a dangerous place with no redeeming qualities.  Uganda has a similar reputation.  I told a friend I was going to Uganda to guest speak at a university about tourism.  He asked, “Why would anyone go there for tourism?  All I think of is Idi Amin and the Libyan army killing all those people.”  It’s been 35 years and obviously some people haven’t forgotten.  For anyone unfamiliar with Idi Amin, if you’ve seen the movie The Last King of Scotland you’ve seen Hollywood’s portrayal of his handiwork.

And to be fair, Amin is not the only black mark on Uganda’s historical register.  Uganda has experienced several civil wars, been accused of human rights violations, had problems with child labor and slavery.  Child soldiers were also regularly used as fighters within the Lord’s Resistance Army.

However, from a tourism perspective, Uganda does have a lot to offer.  Winston Churchill travelled there in 1907 when he was a junior member of Parliament, 33 years before becoming Prime Minister.  Reflecting on his visit, he said, “For magnificence, for variety of form and color, for the profusion of brilliant life- bird, insect, reptile, beast- for vast scale- Uganda is truly the Pearl of Africa.” And so, for the last 100+ years Uganda has been referred to as the Pearl of Africa.

I’m looking forward to spending the next 10 days in Uganda.  I plan to go trekking for gorillas in the Bwindi Impenetrable Jungle, journey across the equator, visit the Jane Goodall Institute and learn how to talk to the chimpanzees (I was born in the month of the monkey, so I’m hoping this gives me an edge), see Lake Victoria and the mouth of the Nile River, and I will be spending two days at Makerere University giving several guest lectures to their tourism classes and professors.