Getting up close and personal with mountain gorillas - at last

 

 

I had wanted to make this trip ever since seeing the film Gorillas in the Mist and now it was a dream coming true.

 I was flying over verdant hills and descending into Kigali international airport and my heart was racing.  The lush green valleys were peppered with glinting mirrors in the sparkle of the African sun: these were the little houses of  the locals with their corrugated iron roofs.  It was almost like the Rwandan countryside was bejeweled and glistening to welcome its visitors.  

The valleys sometimes led to lakes fed by muddy ochre rivers, which wound their way in and out of the land of a thousand hills.  One winding curvy river reminded me of the now defunct Mongolian script, which the soviets erased during their imperial occupation of the said plains.

The plane's nose dipped and we were moments from landing.  

Hotel lobby - Mille Collines

Having been to quite a few airports in Africa recently, I wasn't expecting too much of Kigali, not least since it hadn't long been out of an horrific internal genocide and its GDP is relatively low.  But I was pleasantly surprised with the airport and indeed the city overall.  

Busts in my hotel room

The former was quite new, with clear signage and a prompt baggage retrieval system - the only slightly amusing thing was the customs channels where the "red" and "green" channels had arrows on either side of a single pillar, behind which about 2m away was the same exit though the same door....I wondered why they bothered.  However, I must confess I was pleased when I didn't need to purchase a visa to enter the country -  I learned afterwards that the government had waived them for donor countries who'd shown generosity in their aid.  Thank you Paul Kagame; this is more than can be said for many an ungrateful developing entity.

The city was spick and span, with good roads and traffic signals the vast majority of the population appeared to obey.  Take heed Kenya...!

My driver, Vincent, was hurrying me off to Hotel des Mille Collines, where I was spending a night in Kigali before heading to the Virunga National Park to the north.  This hotel was the theatre for what was Hotel Rwanda: the film about the bravery of some fairly solitary souls trying to mitigate the carnage what happened here in 1994.   This said, you wouldn't have known it.  There were no plaques, no information in the rooms, in fact it wasn't mentioned at all.

My spacious bedroom

So I checked in, had dinner and washed it and my thoughts on genocide down with a bottle of local brew, Primus.  

The outside of my hotel

Kigali

I was here, in Rwanda and the gorillas were expecting me - I hoped.

 

 

 

 

 

A joke from Facebook - thanks Raju

The boss wondered why one of his most valued employees was absent but had not phoned in. Needing to have an urgent problem with one of the main computers resolved, he dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted with a child's whisper. 'Hello ?'

'Is your daddy home?' he asked.

'Yes,' whispered the small voice.

May I talk with him?'

The child whispered, 'No .'

Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, 'Is your Mommy there?' 'Yes'

'May I talk with her?' Again the small voice whispered, 'No'

Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, 'Is anybody else there?'

'Yes,' whispered the child, 'a policeman.'

Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, 'May I speak with the policeman?'

'No, he's busy,' whispered the child.

'Busy doing what?'

'Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman,' came the whispered answer.

Growing more worried as he heard a loud noise in the background through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, 'What is that noise?'

'A helicopter' answered the whispering voice.

'What is going on there?' demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive.
Again, whispering, the child answered,

'The search team just landed a helicopter'

Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked, 'What are they searching for?'

Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle...

'ME'

Kibera - a world away from Nairobi

Playing games

I had chastised myself a few times for not getting more involved in some charitable endeavour here in Kenya.  Living in my very nice flat in Westlands, there was a huge opportunity to give something back in many ways in this wondrous yet challenged nation.

Maureen leading the weaving

And this weekend, I had no excuse.  Our company had done a food & clothes drive to get donations for a local children's home.  We'd collected all kinds of clothes and non-perishables as well as money donations.  So on Saturday morning, we boarded a bus with our plastic bags (about 12 of us from Ipsos) and about US$500 in cash and headed to the local supermarket, Uchumi - which means "economy" in Swahili.

We loaded 7 supermarket trolleys with all kinds of goodies from bread to cooking oil, from toothpaste to sanitary pads, sweets to crisps.  We overspent, but that didn't matter and boarded the bus again to head to Kibera.

Kibera is an informal dwelling (AKA slum) within Nairobi and is said to be the largest such conglomeration in Africa.  There was a little kerfuffle as we entered the area, as local "gang members" were touting for an entry charge and banging loudly on the side of the bus for us to hand over 100 shillings (US$1.30) or so to be allowed to enter.  We managed to get through unscathed, although I must confess, my heart was pounding somewhat faster than normal at this stage.

Starting the bluebells and bamboo forest dance

Introducing each other at the home

 When we arrived at the home, Lucy, one of the fund raisers and a local primary school teacher was there with a broader than broad smile to welcome us and all the children (about a dozen of them) ran to help us unload the bus - which after the shopping spree at Uchumi, was really quite laden down.

We introduced ourselves, the kids doing the same.  Then it was play time.

Smiling faces

Most of the games and singing were quite foreign to me, but children were enjoying the company and attention.  Then came a familiar game of "In and out the dusty bluebells", where the leader starts weaving under the arched held hands and arms of the fellow players all arranged in a circle.  When the song comes to a certain phrase "I am your master" the leader skirts around the back of the person where the phrase is started and pats them on the back repeatedly then this "seconded" person joins the said master to create a conga-like train and so it goes on until there are more on the outside of the ring than those forming the ring itself.

It was lapped up by the children - and methinks, the adults too...!

[What I call the "dusty bluebells" song naturally had a local twist to it and here in Kenya it's rendered as "In and out the bamboo forest".]

Afterwards we ate lunch together, and while the food was as tasty as that which is served up at our office canteen, the thing that amazed me (and I'm not quite sure why) was the insistence on washing hands before eating.  This home was imparting simple life lessons at every stage and as Lucy, herself, said, they are trying to make proud young adults of these kids who will hopefully never feel looked down upon or inferior - even if their local MP (Raila Odinga, perhaps the next president of Kenya) should descend on them with his own youngsters.

Good manners, praying before tucking into soya stew and lentils, saying thank you with meaning and respecting elders - good life lessons indeed.

Dancing in the school yard

We saw the school the children attend and did one last dance - where even yours truly wiggled his hips to the lilting chorus of young voices - happy to just to be able to sing for us.

As we boarded the bus back to the "big bad city", the bad city didn't seem so bad after all - what we were leaving behind, on the other hand, perhaps was indeed "bad" and dangerous.  I was tremendously grateful and appreciative of that fact.

We waved good bye and promised to be back...I hope we do get back.

Holding hands

We were touched by the kids' tales of abandonment and abuse; we were humbled by their happy smiling faces and genuine hug of thanks; and we are resolved to do more for this home in the slums of Kibera.


[If you would like to help this island of hope please take a look at this link and perhaps you could donate a few dollars to make a difference..... http://www.globalgiving.org/projects/childrens-rescue-centre-kibera-kenya/ ]