So it begins

DRC or Dollars?

Published Date : December 15, 2004

After a pit stop at the South African embassy in the morning, yesterday was a long day of driving.  Crossing most of the country, we stopped for the night near Kabale.

Today was very relaxed.  We had about an hour drive to Kisoro and the rest of the day free to do as we wanted.  With rain in the forecast it was back to tenting again.  I did a bit of wandering around town and bought a really nice Congolese wood carved mask for US$35.  Back home it would have sold for close to $70 or $80.

Located on the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, Kisoro is a very small, very poor agricultural town.  For tourists, it serves as the gateway to either Rwanda or the DRC for those wanting to trek to see the mountain gorillas.

Speaking of mountain gorillas, I’ve been debating whether or not to go on a trek to see them tomorrow.  I seriously underestimated my budget for this trip and I’m really not sure if I’m going to be able to fund all of it.  At the rate I’m going, I’ll be running out of money about the time I arrive in Singapore.  As much as I would love to join the rest of the group in the Congo tomorrow, I just don’t know if I can afford to spend US$500 for the privilege.  I’ll always be able to come back in the future, but it seems almost a waste to be here and not do it.  Decisions, decisions…

Machete for the Mizungas

Published Date : December 16, 2004

Well, the decision is made, for better or worse.  Everyone apart from Marika and I left for the DRC this morning to see the mountain gorillas. Sigh.

After a spectacularly impressive thunderstorm last night (good thing I opted for the tent!), the day started out cool, cloudy and very humid.  We spent the morning around camp waiting for the roads and paths to dry out.  When the sun started to peak out from the clouds in late afternoon, Marika and I decided it was time to explore.

We stopped off at the local market to buy some water and a bunch of small bananas before starting our hike to nearby Lake Mutanda.  Leaving behind the town, the “roads” quickly reduced to nothing more than foot paths.  We passed several small, tin-roofed houses surrounded by fields of neatly tended crops. Many people stopped what they were doing to stare at us as we walked by.  Every so often a child would start to follow us from a safe distance.

By the time we reached the lake shore, we had accumulated about a dozen children ranging in age from 4 to 10. One little boy of about six had even brought along his herd of pigs!  Pausing to sit down and rest in the shade, the children quickly lost their shyness when they saw us pull out the bananas and water.

“Do you have cake for me?”  the bolder ones asked.  We had been warned by the staff back at the campsite to expect this question.  Bread is a luxury in this part of the world and the children love it and seek it out at every opportunity.  I never figured out how they came to call it cake though.

Their disappointment was obvious when they realized we only had boring old bananas.  Despite our meager offerings, these fruits were only about a quarter of the size of the bananas we get back home, we handed out a few for the children to share.  The ruckus that ensued would have been humorous if not for the fact that every one of them was carrying either a knife or a machete.  It was more than a little disconcerting seeing 4-year olds carrying around 6-inch blades!  The real trouble started when an older girl, maybe about 12, showed up with a scowl and machete.  Obviously the local bully, she immediately started grabbing the fruit from the younger children and waving the blade around to keep the others away.

When the rocks started flying, we knew it was time for us to make our exit.  It was obvious that this was a regular occurrence and neither of us were interested in sticking our noses in the middle of it!

Retracing our steps back into the hills towards Kisoro, the clouds rolled back in with a low fog and a light mist.  Uganda is a very beautiful country with its rolling green hills, lush forests and rich red soil.  After decades of war and conflict, it’s also an incredibly poor country.

“Mizunga, give me money!”

That was the theme for the day.  Every time we stopped moving, someone was there with their hand out.  The plea was always the same; although, occasionally the asker would tack on a “please.”

The poverty in Africa is something that I haven’t yet figured out how to deal with.  Many of the people here view westerners as walking bank machines.  We are all assumed to be rich and have money to spare – we’re wealthy enough to travel to their country after all.  I find it difficult to say no, because by their standards, I really am wealthy.  Even just a couple of US dollars would go a long way for the people here. What’s a couple of bucks in the face of people truly in need?  However, if I were to give just a couple of dollars to everybody who asked, I would be penniless in a week.  I don’t know what the answer is.

Dinner back at camp was late, but lively.  The stories and pictures the rest of the group brought back with them from DRC were fantastic.  It had rained the entire day where they were, but everyone was in high spirits despite the weather.  They had been divided into three smaller groups of 7 or 8 people with two guides each.  Each group went in search of a different family of mountain gorillas.  All three groups were successful, with one group being lucky enough to observe an impressive display from a Silverback!

I’m sad to have missed out, but I’m happy with my day.  It was nice to have the opportunity to see something besides the tourist traps.