C O N T E N T S

 The Ancient Art of Making Fire [May 5th 1995]

Lighting a fire this morning was going to prove difficult because all the logs were damp, so in an effort to save fuel, Phil (our driver) asked one of the locals, Joseph, to make one for us.

“Show this man how to light a proper fire” Phil instructed Joseph while pointing at me.

Now I’m in for an educational treat, I thought. Here is a Ugandan native, well versed in the art of fire making, a skill passed down through countless generations stemming from the very early African origins of man. This was one of the things I was hoping to see during my time on this continent so I sat engrossed as Joseph made his preparations.

He began by carefully placing tiny twigs and splinters of wood on the ground. Next he meticulously arranged larger twigs and kindling wood on top before stacking some larger logs on the pile at which point he disappeared. What, I wondered, happens next? Perhaps he’d gone to retrieve his fire making tools – two pieces of wood, which he would deftly rub together. Or maybe… maybe he was preparing some kind of ritual, perhaps a sort of prayer to an African fire god?

Nothing of the sort – Joseph returned with a small can of gasoline which he promptly threw over the pile of wood before setting fire to it with a cigarette lighter.

On the one hand I was quite disappointed but on the other, I was falling about laughing having realised he’d made the fire in exactly the same way I would have done. I was so engrossed that I didn’t even notice.

Our expedition into Zaire had been put on hold yesterday due to Jayne suffering quite badly from eating a dodgy vegetable samosa. By midday today she was not exactly feeling on top of the world but definitely coming on strong so at 1:00pm we drove to the border for the second time in two days. Phil stopped a few hundred yards from the crossing and we soon set off on our mini-adventure.

First stop was the Ugandan passport control, which we discovered was closed so we had to ask some kids where the guy who ran it was. We eventually found him just up the road so he walked back with us, opened the office and stamped our passports. The next office we found ourselves in was Zaire immigration control. Here we had a few more stamps added to our passports after which we set off with our porter Jack. Jack knew all the shortcuts to the area where we were going to camp. He led us through open fields where locals were farming and past the occasional bamboo hut.

There were women everywhere with young kids on their backs while the children who were old enough to walk were always happy to see us. They greeted us with beaming smiles and excited laughs.

I don’t think I’d ever experienced such a “sense of adventure” so to speak. As we began to climb into the mountains, the view of the scenery around us increased and we really felt as if we were just stuck in the middle of absolutely nowhere. We loved it; an unforgettable experience and we hadn’t even seen any gorillas yet.

I was very worried about Jayne. We had to stop to let her catch her breath more and more as we went along but we eventually made it. By the time we reached the campsite we had been trekking for almost four hours – an exhausting four hours at that.

On arriving at the base we met “Jackson” who by then we knew all about from the members of our truck we’d met heading back to Uganda. We’d passed quite a few of them; all very excited from the gorilla encounter they’d had earlier in the day. They filled us in on everything they’d been doing and even dumped a load of food and water with us just in case we needed to stay an extra day.

Jackson proved to be very versatile – we were in a remote part of Zaire with nothing but jungle and mountains around us yet when he noticed we were thirsty he managed to find us some soft drinks. He then gave us a hand to erect our tent, disappeared again and returned with some grass. The Arthur Daley of Zaire – what an enterprising chap.

A small crowd of tourists from Truck Africa soon arrived so we got chatting to them. We managed to organise a swap with some members of their group so we could see the Gorillas tomorrow instead of waiting an extra day.

After cooking noodles and discovering diesel is not the best thing to use with a Trangia cooking stove, we spent the rest of the evening chuffing away with three guys from Truck Africa. One of them had a Twister game mat stuffed in his backpack – the staff in his office had presented it to him as a leaving present before he set off travelling. He had made it his mission to take as many photos as possible of people playing twister in different places and was quite excited about the possibility of getting a few gorillas on the mat.

From the sounds of it, the Truck Africa group had suffered a nightmare of an expedition. There were lots of tales of their truck being bogged down all the time, which was a bit of a worry because our next destination was in the direction they’d just come.

As the evening drew on, everyone said goodnight and we settled down for some well earned sleep in our tent… on a hill… next to a jungle… in which lives a band of mountain gorillas!

 In Awe of Oscar and his Band [May 6th 1995]

Today was a real, full-on, Indiana Jones style adventure from start to finish, an experience I will never forget. We’d had a great night’s sleep due to a combination of comfortable ground, tired legs and polishing off the local produce Jackson had provided us with. Once we had finally completed the paper formalities, which meant entering our names in a book that gave us permission to see the gorillas, we set off. For some reason the person behind the desk in the small hut at the camp ground absolutely point blank refused to let us write our names in the book until everyone from Truck Africa had.

The trek to find the gorillas, led by two guides, was all part of the experience. It took us two and a half hours to find the band, the first hour traipsing across fields and the last hour and a half, which was the most fun, cutting our way through thick jungle. I’d never done anything quite like it before – the jungle was extremely dense so the guide at the front was constantly hacking everything away with his machete. A metallic pinging noise rang out with each swipe of his sharpened blade. As we ventured deeper into the jungle we all became very muddy and wet despite the fact it wasn’t raining. The guides appeared to be tracking the gorillas by following the trail of excrement they had left behind them.

Just as we were beginning to wane we were called to a halt. In the distance a bush was moving as an indication we had finally found them.

We spent an hour with the band of gorillas, including Oscar the huge silverback. I couldn’t believe how placid they were – they were quite happy just stuffing their faces with food whilst we all took photos. The whole thing was very unreal – a feeling of total awe engulfed me and on many occasions I found myself just gawping with my mouth wide open. We were told not to approach the gorillas but rather wait and see if they would come to us, which they did. There were a couple of times when some of the younger gorillas brushed past me, actually touching me on the arms – it was a real privilege to be so close to such captivating creatures.

Just how unreal the whole thing felt was demonstrated by the passing of time. The hour we had in their presence seemed to pass in the space of five minutes. It was all over far, far too quickly and we were soon hacking our way through the jungle again to return to the campsite.

I really have no idea how our guides managed to get us in and out of the jungle. Once inside we could see absolutely nothing, not even the mountains, and I didn’t have the first clue as to which direction we were meant to be heading. I can only assume the guides had some sixth sense used specifically for getting tourists out of the jungle.

Once we’d emerged from the undergrowth we slowly plodded through some more fields and back to the base – we were all absolutely knackered. Jayne was dying to simply sit down and relax so relax we did but only for an hour as we had to get back to the border.

The walk to the Ugandan border was completed in less than two hours. Jayne somehow suddenly acquired the walking abilities of a soldier meaning the return journey was considerably quicker than the previous day’s effort. Our porter, Andy, was lucky enough to be overpaid because we had no change on us – he didn’t seem to mind in the least.

The border formalities involved collecting a few more passport stamps after which we crossed into Uganda and found no truck to meet us. We eventually piled into the back of a ute and slid our way back to the hotel area where the rest of our group were camped. The condition of the road had deteriorated since yesterday and this, coupled with the fact that the driver insisted on driving as fast as the vehicle would let him, gave us a pretty hair-raising ride.

We timed our return perfectly as dinner was just being served so we hoed into the food after changing out of our soggy clothes. The campsite was extremely wet with areas of it under a few inches of water. We eventually climbed into the tent praying it wouldn’t rain any more as we were both hanging out for a good night’s kip.
 

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