final group of gorillas on that mountain.
Bill tired of his towering stature constantly collapsing beneath angled stalks another time in the bamboo zone. A stray idea sent his head into a parodies of the Oscar Mayer theme tune, a cultural artifact from Madison, Wisconsin, home of the Oscar Mayer wiener from graduate school.
Oh, I wish I were a little small Mutwa; then, my back wouldn’t be hurting me. That is what I truly want to be.
After listening, Nemeye inquired as to why Bill was signing about a Mutwa, or pygmy. Bill clarified that, like a pygmy, he would feel much better if he were only five feet tall and free from continual bending over. Oddly, Nemeye became enraged at this answer. He said with much resentment that he most definitely does not want to be a pygmy as no white guy wants to be an African.
This sparked a fascinating conversation on human beginnings as we made our way up another steep canyon devoid of gorilla evidence. In Nemeye’s account, white people must have come first on Earth because they had most of the wealth and worldly commodities. The Tutsi came next, which helped to explain why they were the typical overloads from Rwanda and kept enjoying relative riches and position.
Like their forebears, Hutu farmers arrived later and discovered only the territory they could claim and use. Poor Twa, pygmies left to hunt in the wild arrived last. It was a revealing realization that changed the generally agreed upon flow of ethinic entry in the region-first Twa, then Hutu. Tutsi and European-minded on their head. Still, from Nemeye’s point of view, it also had obvious logic.
Big Nemeye kept his racial biases to himself if he had them. After generations of Tutsi control, he belonged to the sizable Hutu majority that suddenly ruled Rwandan politics. Hutu was about the only neighbor he had across the rich Virunga lava plain. He hunted Twa in the park and bought things from Tutsi vendors in Ruhengeri. Still, one of Nemeye’s best songs included the repeated refrain: I’m a Hutu, you’re a Tutsi, he’s a Twa –we’re all Rwandans. Though Bill became bored with the song, he valued its ecumenical lessons of ethnic unity.
Generally much more taciturn than their gregarious neighbors from Congo and Uganda, Rwandans do not have a practice of disclosing much about themselves. Though they are not bashful about asking outsiders questions, nights around the camp fire usually became “tell us about America” time for Nemeye and the camp guards.
Political concerns were not of much attention, but American women’s personalities and wardrobe perplexity piqued curiosity. Thus, purchasing property was a strange idea that was quickly permeating Rwandan life, particularly in the rich lava zone near the Virungas. As with the Apollo space program, mechanized farming, super markets, and super high-ways were prominent topics.
Still, moonwalks and landings were more readily approved than coin-operated vending machines. The greatest perplexity, head shaking, and laughing at the methods of the “abazungu” came from the notion that you could put pennies into a metal box and that food-sandwiches, hamburgers, fruit, hot and cold drinks-would drop into your hands. Bill found it difficult to explain all this, but it was a fun way to finish demanding field work before turning in for night.
On Sabinyo’s Eastern Slope, we discovered a small band of six gorillas, our fourth and last group. We followed their route from an exposed lava fin close to what we thought to be the unmarked boundary between Rwanda-Uganda. The idea that von Beringe may have aimed his rifle at gorillas on that same mountain in 1902 was unsettling.
We followed the route; making nest counts along the way and caught one quick glance at the group as they traveled gradually North West around the mountain. Clearly apparent below was the jagged line created by illicit farms invading the Ugandan border. We had spent a lot of time before counting gorillas in the Congolese portion of the Virungas, but operating without permission in Uganda was different.
Recently Idi Amini had failed in an attempt to seize the North West corner of Tanzania, and now Tanzanian soldiers were massing to retaliate. Radio Uganda was stating that the whole South West border needed constant alertness. Neither did we wish to be guests of president Amin, nor did we expect to see Ugandan military at ten thousand feet. We came back one more day to finish our nest counts, then stopped working in the Ugandan field.
A shockingly huge and active hyena population chorted and hunted about our base camp all through the night. At high altitude in a rain forest, this amazing aural experience came completely unexpected. Less favorable was a story we recently heard of a visitor in Kenya who slept in an open tent sporting his boots.
Attracted to the smell of leather, a hyena dragged him out by one boot at night and chopped his foot before it was driven off. It was not a comforting notion even if Bill slept with his boots on. Added to our worries about military operations, we slept little and was glad to go on in the morning.
Our final camp was on the Gahinga-Muhavura saddle; a group of Rwandan troops watched from a little tin cabin. Though it was unclear whether this represented the war situation over the border with Uganda, two hundred yards away, or their anxiety about animals in the park, they were tense. Though some appeared glad to have company, they were not a very outstanding bunch.
Now, even in Schaller’s day, we were in a part of the park that had never supported many gorillas. We still had to cover a lot of ground, however. Fortunately, Gahinga had relatively few significant ravines and its towering bamboo towers created cathedral-like arches much more accessible than the bamboo thickets to the West.
On Gahinga, at lower level, we did come across unusual mimulopsis trees whose high stilt roots were efficient at tripping weary legs. Although we discovered several ancient gorilla nests at multiple locations, there was no indication of passage within the last six months. But our very presence sent off volleys of piercing piao! From medium-sized golden monkeys (cercopithecus mitis kandti), a species native to the area whose golden cloak is as arresting as its call, alarms from local troops.
