Rwanda and The Gorilla's

Our first entrance into “The Land of A Thousand Hills” was somewhat bitter-sweet as the visa man invited us to stay forever, while his self-important colleague manning the boom gate clearly wasn’t that exited about letting us into his country. Accidentally speaking Swahili to a grumpy gate operator in a country where Swahili is not spoken didn’t seem to help matters either and it was only our unwavering sparkly smiles which eventually got the boom lifted. Thankfully Jon and Ingrid had gone ahead with less bureaucracy to deal with having an East African registered vehicle, so it was with immense gratitude that we read their text message just as we began our assault on Rwandan roads: they drive on the other side! Something team Bumblebee only discovered after sensing potential danger and pulling off the road to observe other vehicles. It was a rough 3hrs going to Kigali driving on the windy road through the endless hills, on the wrong side of the road, while trying to dodge hundreds of cyclists and pedestrians lining the side of the narrow road without any concern for potentially getting run over – Rwanda is one of the most densely populated countries in Africa. We could seriously have done with some UNHCR vehicles to drive some fear into them! The slow going did however give us the opportunity to appreciate the endless terraced hills of our 7^th country and Drew managed to snap some great photos of country life in Rwanda, which at the time seemed only to consist of walking on the road!

The slow progress meant that we arrived in Kigali well after sunset which made navigating congested traffic circles the wrong way around another tick in our book of adventures we would rather avoid. With Jon’s wallet still bleeding from Serengeti, Drew and I chose a spot which sounded like it catered to everyone’s needs at which to spend the night: camping for us, and en-suite chalets for the more weary amongst us. The establishment even boasted an award winning restaurant in its back garden, so One Love certainly sounded like the jackpot and the bonus was that all the profit went to a charity which supplied prosthetic limbs for Genocide survivors. The brightly green illuminated tree visible from all over Kigali screamed how wrong we were from miles away, and the purple and red sideshow lights illuminating the drive and parts of the establishment not covered by the green light made it feel like we were entering some of the more seedy areas of Amsterdam than a guesthouse in Kigali. The rooms were expensive and left a lot to be desired with cot sized beds that had seen better days and many previous occupants judging by the hole in the middle from which there was no escape, and the stained toilet seats and dirty shower that lacked a door – exiting considering I was sharing a room with two boys. Too late for any energy to find alternative accommodation, we went in search of this raved about restaurant to drown our sorrows. After getting seriously lost in translation with the lady behind the bar, Ingrid dusted off her French and translated for all of us that the restaurant had actually moved about 10km’s down the road and that they now only served beef brochettes (kebabs) and chips. Dinner took over an hour to arrive and Drew and I were promptly banned from ever choosing accommodation ever again.

Needless to say there wasn’t one happy face when we met in the parking lot the next morning, the green light thankfully having been put to bed, but our ears were now ringing with the traffic noises we were forced to endure the previous night when it sounded like we had rolled our mattresses out onto the highway. After attempting to draw money and finding a breakfast that suited everyone’s needs, we finally left Kigali mid-morning and made our way north to the border with Uganda. Boom operating seems to be the monopoly of one very sour family in Rwanda as we received no joy from what could only have been the brother of the operator down south! Once we were finally permitted to leave Rwanda, the Ugandan side was a breath of fresh air with one official actually helping us to exchange money at the bank rates (yes, I know he probably got his own payment but I live in hope) and even told us not to thank him because it was his job to help us! So it was with great positivity and excitement that we hit the ridiculously bad dirt roads of south-western Uganda even though we had to pay $50pp for a visa for 4 days.

The lush hills continued as we wound our way along the dust track to Bwindi Impenetrable forest, the Ugandan territory of the Virungus which cover DRC and Rwanda as well and are home to the last 700 mountain gorillas in the world. We arrived at our campsite perched on a hill with breathtaking views of the hills and valleys that make up the forest at 4pm, exhausted and thoroughly grumpy, so we all retired to our respective tents to sleep back our personalities. Thankfully personalities were somewhat restored by the time we were woken up by beating drums and singing children – our pre-dinner entertainment by the village charity group to show us where our $500 gorilla permit money was spent in terms of community education and projects. Their enthusiasm certainly made the soup and crackers we would be living off for the next year seem worthwhile.

D-day had finally arrived, a day I had been looking forward to since first laying eyes on the gorillas in a magazine in a doctor’s waiting room when I was a lot less close to 30. The campsite provided us with a hearty breakfast before we headed out to the starting point for what Jon and Ingrid hoped would be a meandering stroll, and the rest of us a heart hammering training session for Kili.

It turned out to be a compromise because just as we started descending our third jungly hill, the going quite treacherous without a path and wet vegetation resulting in a descent more on the skins of our backsides than the soles of our shoes, our guide told us to put down our walking sticks and backpacks; we were going in. It turned out that we had actually walked straight passed a blackback (young male) leisurely enjoying the strenuous life of mountain gorilla-hood on his back, legs up, sucking on a green shoot and completely unperturbed by our presence. It was incredible to finally behold what could only be a missing member of the Kark family, but when he let our a lengthy bubbly fart, confirming his membership of the Kark dynasty, the guide decided it was time to move on to less flatulent members of the group and we all agreed. Slipping a little further down the lush hill, the rangers parted the dense foliage for us, and bit by bit, parts of other gorillas started to reveal themselves. A silverback was peacefully munching on his all day buffet while a few young ones were playing in the foliage and trees just above, one overrating his agility and nearly becoming Drew’s hat for the day. As the 6 others in our group made their way with camera shutters clattering away like the paparazzi to where another silverback was trying to get some sleep while two younger ones played around him, Shaun and I sat back with silverback number 1 just to allow the jungle sounds and the moment sink in. I got brave and sidled in a little closer for a photo but when Shaun’s eyes grew larger and he told me not to move, I glanced back and saw the silverback coming straight towards me. So I did exactly what I was told not to and beat a hasty retreat to behind Shaun, rating my 50/50 chance of survival much better! After all, I only had to outrun Shaun. Thankfully we weren’t on the menu and he just stood on all 4’s watching us and finally moves slowly away to the cover of the thick forest. When we joined the rest of the group, we were entertained by the baby causing trouble with the older male and found himself rewarded with a whack. The younger male was far more interested in watching us, and found a particular interest in Ingrid’s yellow gloves. As she was lying watching the antics, he came forward and gingerly touched her gloves and then sniffed his fingers repeatedly, intrigued by these different coloured hands. In his defebse, they did look a bit odd, even to the rest of us. It was an absolutely incredible moment but before we knew it, our hour with the gorillas was up and it was time to hike back up the mountain.

Our time with the family had sadly come to an end as we all headed back to Kigali in Rwanda. Jon decided not to leave accommodation arrangements in the hands of the One Love Brigade this time around so booked us into Hotel des Mille Collines, the original Hotel Rwanda and the one the movie was based on. We were naturally very exited at the prospect of spending 2 nights in luxury before being plunged back to our dusty reality and I even got my dirty laundry ready for the bath. However, when we parked the Land Cruiser in the parking area, taking care to find a parking close to the entrance of the hotel for safety despite there being a boom gate and security at the entrance, some Rwandans had other plans and managed to break open the lock on the driver’s door with a screw driver and took it upon themselves to relieve us of 2 x Nikon D90 cameras, 1 x laptop, 1 a passport with irreplaceable UK working visa and a priceless amount of photographs within the 10 minutes it took us to check in and walk back out. The logistics of getting passed security and the rude manner in which the hotel decided to deal with the incident leaves even me speechless so I’ll leave it at that. It shattered our spirits and left a bad taste for the remainder of our stay in the country, but it did allow us to spend extra time with the family as we set about the admin of trying to sort everything out. A visit to the genocide memorial which serves as a reminder of the butchery of 1 million people out of a population of 10 million did manage to put our woes into perspective however.

And then there was 2! A freezer full of meat, an ammo box full of tins and a dirty battered car was all that was left to remind us of our whirlwind tour and glimpses back into luxury. Mentally we needed to get out of Kigali and get our car back to its former clean and ordered glory, so we headed west to Lake Kivu in an attempt to stay in a little town called Kibuye. The area itself was beautiful with fingers of agriculturally terraced hills dropping into the depths of the black lake, but accommodation was basic and ludicrously expensive. After exhausting all of our options (of which camping wasn’t one) we were forced to stay in a little church run hostel which gave One Love a run for its money. It did little to boost our mental struggle against high-tailing it out of Rwanda but unfortunately (or fortunately) the Kark/Jacobs stubbornness kicked in and we refused to be bullied into submission by this little hilly over-farmed country.

So we headed north to Gisenyi, also on Lake Kivu and camped on a little grassy patch in the middle of a parking area of a hotel! With our awning erected as a makeshift screen to create one tiny square of privacy from the gawking patrons (both foreign and local), we had a merry old time sunning ourselves on the loungers in the overcast and cold weather! At least they gave us a bucket of hot water with which to wash each night, but on the third, when a cockroach so large it needed ground clearance to land decided to crawl up my leg just as I covered my face and eyes with face wash in the dingy little concrete bunker they called a shower, I admitted defeat and we headed north to the Volcans National Park with a quick escape route to Uganda.

Now when Shaun and I see a bulge in the earth, for some reason we feel compelled to climb it, the volcanoes here being no exception. So we chose the highest one that could be climbed in one day – 3711m – to start our much needed training for Kili and to kick start our much needed diet to get rid of the tubes of blubber that happily settled around our midriffs with all the 5 course meals we were forced to endure. It was a solid uphill climb on a path that was often washed away, which made going rather tough. I also decided once more to pat a stinging nettle lovingly somewhere near Diane Fossey’s grave but thankfully it was only on my hand so my pants could remain where they were this time, and I could secretly blow on my stinging welts without alerting anyone to my stupidity! Apart from ear shattering heart rates, the climb did offer breathtaking views of the valleys below and the other 4 volcanoes that make up the park. We stepped in loads of gorilla crap while hiking in Diane Fossey’s back yard but unfortunately didn’t see any in the dense jungle which eventually gave way to alpine forest just before our summit at the Crater Lake, ending our time in Rwanda on a high.

Our stubbornness rewarded us with an insight into Rwanda we wouldn’t have been able to enjoy otherwise. Rwandans are actually not all camera and laptop thieves waiting for an opportunity to pounce! They are actually some of the most genuinely friendly Africans we have met, who return any greeting with a smile that would put Julia Roberts to shame. They stare at our vehicle shamelessly because they’ve never seen anything like it and upon invitation, were amazed to see how everything worked and to chat to us about where in the world one would find such a contraption. If given the opportunity, we would definitely return to the “land of a thousand hills”, except next time we would take a disposable camera and a pen and paper!