Gorilla

Mountain Gorilla. Endangered.

Only found in the Virunga Massif in Rwanda, Uganda and DRC. An extraordinary mammal that reflects an incredible story of recovery. Their population is now at 900 from a low of 250 in the 80's. Their survival however is reliant on strict protection and habitat protection. Their greatest threat--disease, snaring and poaching. Foreign zoos pay a hefty price for baby gorillas, and to get them, they must kill family members.

Once again I was fortunate to see them. The system works incredibly well. Only 80 permits are sold a day for ten habituated groups of gorillas. Trekkers are in the forest following the gorillas, so your guides know where to take you. Once you are with the gorillas, you get max one hour with the gorillas.

I visited the Agasha group--meaning the 'news.' 25 members: 1 Silverback; 12 Adult females; 2 Sub adult female; 3 Juvenile and 7 Babies. I think we saw about 15 of them, including the babies who swung from the vines, did somersaults and played tag. Many of my pictures were blurry becuase they were swinging, playing and moving.

Their fuzzy black fur was covered in bamboo leaves from wrestling each other. Like watching little kids, it's amazing. One of the babies, a year old, found an earth worm and a game of chase followed with all of them trying to get the worm. At one point the silverback walked up the trail we were on, and nearly brushed me. At another point a little gorilla was swinging, I was sitting, leaning against a bamboo and he kept swinging closer, closer....hand stretched out....curious....needless to say the desire to grab his little hand was so very tempting! They are simply awesome.

Last week they had a major ceremony and named 24 new babies. It's amazing how this country celebrates the gorillas. Others should follow Rwanda's lead.

 The hike into the park. The approach is through farm fields.

 Catching a ride.

Silverback above.

Chimpanzee

Southern Senegal. We are on the border with Guinea, in a gallery forest, tracking chimps. We hear a branch break in the distance and move in that direction. I am in a full sweat. It is hot, humid in the forest of Dendefelo Reserve. It is rainy season, so we are soaked. My shoes are like sponges after crossing through a river. The rain has made the forest emerald green, lovely, however it makes tracking chimps difficult. Our guide from the local community walks quietly, with focus, listening, watching. I am following him closely because I do not want to miss the chance of seeing the chimps. We are walking up a loose scree slope, covered with vines, bamboo and debris. Trying to not make a sound while traversing this slope is a dance of sorts, a balancing act. With the crunching of leaves under our feet and the sound of the scree tumbling down the slope I cringe thinking the noise will scare the chimps and they will move further away. Above our heads we see their nests, small clumps of branches and leaves in the tree canopy. They make a new nest every night. We see their droppings under the tree, orange in color reflecting the fruit they eat. Filled with termites. We pass a termite mound and find the sticks they use the fish for termites. The sound of breaking branches is close, I crouch low to see through the forest. I see the branches move and then a flash of black drops from the tree—an arm, back, leg—it’s gone. We follow but not fast enough. After four hours up and down the slopes, listening, stopping, moving cautiously, the sun is starting to set and we surrender to the fact that we will not see the chimps today. A pit in my stomach of disappointment, but given their status, I am happy to know they are here, in this healthy forest. Chimpanzee, Pan troglodytes, is endangered. Like all of Africa’s other great apes. Habitat loss and bush meat poaching is causing their decline. Here in this forest, we are working with partners to ensure that these chimps continue to thrive in a safe haven.  

Elevator

We are at a Ministry building in Yaounde, Cameroon. There is an event taking place in the front, so we enter at an odd entrance in the back. Dim hallways with old carpets are filled with piles, I mean piles, of paper folders reaching the ceiling. There is old furniture and boxes littering the hallways. Some ceiling panels are missing and wires hang in various locations like Christmas lights. We have a meeting on the 17th floor, so we head to the elevator.

In the hallway we wait with dozens of people for the elevator. Now, personal space is something Americans cherish. Here, in Central Africa, forget it. Getting onto a bus, plane, elevator, you name it, there is no personal space. You push, shove, press and find yourself pressed against strangers in a way you would get yelled at for in the USA. Meanwhile, if you try to create you own space, fine, go for it, but you will never get on that bus, plane or elevator in this case.

The elevator doors open, and my colleague yells over the heads of many, get in! The four of us shove and push our way in. There are at least 25 of us now squeezed into this tin box. It is hot, like 90 degrees hot. Little air. Dingy. I wonder if the elevator is even going to be able to move from the ground given the weight. It does. Needless to say, not a high speed elevator, we creep our way up. Sweat is dripping down my back. A woman in a beautifully printed dress is pressed on my one side and a man in a grey suit on the other. Power outages are quite common in Cameroon and most certainly, this place does not have a generator. As we crawl to the 17th floor I pray to whoever is listening that the power does not go out and leave us stuck in the elevator.

The Luxuries When Traveling

I am walking down the hallway of a hotel with a toilet seat.

I am in Yaounde, Cameroon. Staying at Marli Palace Hotel. Now, you must appreciate the term 'palace' in the name of the hotel, and then consider that there is nothing palace like about this hotel. The last time I was here I had to negotiate hard with the hotel staff for a towel. This time, a toilet seat.

So how is it I found myself walking down the hallway with the toilet seat?

Once settled into my room, I realized I had no toilet seat. Given I was at the hotel for five nights, well, a toilet seat is a luxury for which I thought worth negotiating. After some sweet talking, a maid showed up at my door with one. Later that afternoon, after meetings with the Minister of Environment, I got back to the hotel and my air conditioner had spewed water across the room. So, management moved me to a new room. In the process of moving I locked my room key in the room.

Ok, no problem, I went to the front desk to get the extra key, only to learn, there are no extra keys, none. The key I had is the only key and it was locked in my room, along with my wallet, passport, computer, you name it. Also consider that all these discussions are in French. So while I may think I know what is going on, chances are I am totally off base given my rudimentary French, despite the years of study.

A man with excellent red shoes and matching red underwear, classic low hanging jeans to reveal them just a smidgen, arrives at my locked door in the stifling hot hallway, with a dinner knife to open the door. For the next 40 minutes on his hands and knees he tries to pry the door open, trip the lock, all with a kitchen knife. Now remember the hotel is not a palace, so the knives are not strong sterling. The man went through a number of knives, bending and snapping many as he tried desperately to open the damn door. Also consider the temperature in Yaounde, hot and humid. So the poor man is drenched in sweat trying to open the door.

After some time, we start to consider rappelling off the roof to get into the window, yes, I am serious, how else do you get into a room? We had identified the route to the roof, the window etc... Just as we were exploring this option, the red shoe man successfully cranked the door open. After slipping the guy some cash, moving my luggage to the new room, I realized there was no toilet seat in the new room; thus, returned to the old room and found myself walking down the hallway with a toilet seat.

Laughing Baboons

It is a hot day. We are driving in Kruger National Park. We drive down a hill and start to see flying baboons. They are jumping, spinning, swirling and leaping. They are splashing in the water, playing tag and chasing each other. We stop, sit and watch as these baboons have the time of their lives. No purpose, just simple playing. As we rolled across the bridge slowly these two wet baboons were sitting on the edge of the bridge catching their breath. Needless to say the one on the left continued to have a grand old time as he flashed his smile in delight.

Delight

July 18 is Mandela Day.

George Hallett, South African photographer, captured this picture which illustrates sheer joy and delight. Look at the grin on these ladies' faces when Mandela arrives. Sheer joy.

Elephant Graveyard

Have you ever visited an elephant graveyard?

It's not like the graveyards you and I know. No neat rows, no gravestones, no tulips.

Stark white bones on dusty soil.
Stark white bones juxtaposed against green vegetation.
Stark white bones spread across the landscape.

Stark white bones—that is all that is left.

An elephant skull is the size of an arm chair. Imagine four.
The elephant bones the length of a broom and thickness of a rugby players' thigh. There are piles of them in mounds littered across the land.

25,000 elephant were killed last year. 25,000.

There are elephant graveyards across Africa.

This graveyard is behind a lovely pond.
The crocodiles, hippos, impala, nyla, baboons and other wildlife eat, drink, run, jump, play, fight and live, simply live.
But the elephant bones lay silent…….still…….without life.

The mopani trees surround this graveyard.
Their leaves look like two hands praying.
The wind blows them together, in prayer for the elephants.
They need the prayers.
 
Hands in the soil I kneel amidst the bones in prayer.
Hands on the bones, I try to feel the life of these three ton animals that once roamed and shaped this great landscape.
Hands gripping the bones I pay tribute to their magnificence, bearing witness to herds that once were.

They need more than our prayers.......more than our tears......more than our anger.
They need our perseverance.
They need our focus and they need our commitment to stop the killing.