When we first heard of the slaughter of the four Mountain Gorillas back in August, we didn’t think much of it. After all, it occurred in the Congo. We were headed into Diane Fossey territory, Parc National des Volcans, home to 380 gorillas, which we knew to be in Rwanda.

It wasn’t until we arrived at the Virunga Lodge (an “Eco” lodge located high upon a hill overlooking lake Bulera) that we realized that the park spanned parts of three countries--Uganda, Rwanda, and the Congo—which appeared to be a one wood away on the map.

It still might not have bothered us, except that the day earlier we had toured the Genocide Museum in the capital city of Kigali. That sobering eye opener, depicting the hundred day nightmare when Hutus hacked up their Tutsi neighbors with machetes ( originally it was thought 800,000 died, now they are guessing the figure will be closer to 1.6 million)--got us to thinking some.

Apparently, this tri-country area is a favorite smuggling route for the many “militias” which have been entangled in the countless coups since Rwanda achieved independence in 1966.

The three soldiers in camo with Kalishnikovs who escorted us and our guide didn’t lower the anxiety level at all--though we pretended like it didn’t matter.

Officially, the Tutsis and Hutus are all brothers now—it’s even technically against the law to refer to one as anything but a Rwandan.

Upon our return I read that the deaths were possibly linked to followers of Laurant Nkunda, a Tutsi who fought with President Paul Kagami and the RPF. He is currently being investigated by the International Criminal Court for War Crimes. One again, I was grateful for my boundless ignorance.

Our focus was Gorillas, not guerillas.

We were not to be disappointed.

The finest outdoors man I have ever met, (known only as Francois) led us up into the bamboo forest at the foot of the Sabinyo Volcano. We were about an hour from Dian Fossey's grave near the Karisoke research center. She was hacked to death there in 1985 and is buried near her favorite primate, Digit.

We were in search of the Hirwa group. It consisted of a 450 pound Silverback, his five wives and their five babies. This was one happy, harmonious group—a far cry from the Duba Plains Pride of lions where the mothers were eating each others’ cubs.

Like a flight attendant before take off, Francois gave us the safety lecture. Ok. So it was a bit different.

“If a gorilla should come up and grab your arm, don’t resist. Go with him for a few steps.” (Riiiiiight!).

“If the Silverback beats his chest and charges you, don’t run. Don’t look him in the eye. Get down low and act submissive.” (Riiiiight!).

I’m not making this up.

Francois gave us a demonstration of how Gorillas can get drunk on bamboo. Twenty bamboo shoots is like one beer. 100 is like whiskey.

(Would I start looking good after 100 bamboo shoots?)

No, Toto. We were not in Kansas anymore.

The trackers alerted Francois by radio where the group was. We were there within an hour.

There he sat: The 450 pound gorilla. We weren’t 20 feet from him.

Francois approached him and made a series of grunts. The gorilla answered back!

Our mouths dropped. His ladies were near by. I glanced up behind Francois and saw two more gals coming down the hill, babes in tow. We were between a Silverback and his women.

Suddenly, he stood up and beat his chest like in a Tarzan movie. He trumpeted, and came at us. Francois jumped in front and forced us all down in a crouching stance. Only the denseness of the jungle prevented us from sprinting away as we were told not to do.

Francois was moving slowly, making sure all of us were down and safe.

The boss, then got up on all fours and pulled down a thick bamboo shoot. He moved quickly by me, only inches away, inadvertently knocking me into my wife with the bamboo.

Jim was next. He was crouched low on my right. The boss reached out with an over sized mitt and pushed Jim and the rest of us into a heap. He might have been flicking off a fly.

It was a hoot. We were all in shock, yet oddly unafraid.

For the next hour we cautiously followed the boss man, his gals and offspring as they literally frolicked through the bamboo forest. Francois gently guided us along—never getting too close.

(The rule is to stay about 7 meters distant, but not all Gorilla’s have read the book, so sometimes they come a bit closer).

Francois made incessant grunts and groans. He seemed to get responses, not only from the Big Guy, but also his girls.

Afterwards I asked him.

“Do they know you?”

Well, he’s been doing this for 27 years. Actually worked with Fossey—knew her well.

“I go up to the Man, introduce myself, see what kind of a mood he’s in. He then grunts and calls the girls to come down and see me, his friend.”

Well, it was true. They all came down once we were there.

Of course, maybe they just wanted to gawk at the crazy Americans and laugh at how funny we looked—how white, how frail, how puny, how hairless.

We must be a funny site. I’m sure we never failed to amuse them.

No doubt they are grateful to Francois for giving them this daily hour of amusement.













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