experience
Gorilla Trekking The night before my trek, after dinner, we gathered in Kwitonda’s conservation lounge for a briefing. Its walls are lined with books, stories, and photographs outlining the region’s heritage, and a cabinet in the corner houses the equipment and journals of Bob Campbell, the National Geographic photographer who worked closely with Dian Fossey . Fire lit behind him, Charles Nsabimana, one of the resident Conservationists, launched into a story. “You know the gorilla on the other side of this wall?” he asked, referring to an enormous portrait of a silverback, painted by artist John Banovich. “That’s me.” Every September, Musanze hosts Kwita Izina, a ceremony naming the gorillas born that year. Around 30,000 people gather for music, food, and the naming itself, a highlight Chriss had assured me is deeply meaningful in a place where gorillas are responsible for so much of tourism’s benefit. “I’ve been working as a conservationist in this region for 30 years,” Charles told us. “I know every gorilla by name. One year, they decided to name one after me.” With his deep, soothing voice, both assuring and animating us at once, he walked us through the region’s history — from its origins as Albert National Park, the continent’s first, to its present division into Volcanoes, Virunga, and Mgahinga Gorilla National Parks across Rwanda, the DRC, and Uganda. We learned how to behave and what to expect. Wisdom from a man who knows and deeply loves this place.
The next morning, Chriss took me to the Volcanoes National Park headquarters, where you’re divided into groups and assigned a gorilla family. I was to visit the Isimbi family, who reside on the slopes of Karisimbi, the tallest mountain in Rwanda and the westernmost of the Virunga range. Most of the way to the start was paved, but toward the end, we turned onto an undulating dirt road that led us to the foot of the mountain. “Hold on,” Chriss said as we turned onto it. “You’re about to get an African massage.” We wound our way up steep, muddy paths through bamboo forests, where golden monkeys looked curiously at us until we saw them, then scurried away in hoots and hollers. It took about two and a half hours to reach the Isimbi family — Silverback Muturengere, three of his females, and five of his infants. Gorillas’ eyes are startlingly familiar. As are their hands — like ours, but bigger. The love they display for their young and their relatives feels the same. For me, seeing gorillas is powerful precisely because of how alike we are. It’s humbling getting there, and seeing them reminds us simultaneously of our own inflated sense of importance and the underrepresentation of wildlife in our concerns. It makes you care. They’re gentle, playing or grooming one another when they’re not eating or sleeping. You have an hour with them, and all the time on the way down to sit with what that hour revealed.
Previous spread Dieuveil Malonga and his team elevate local, traditional cooking from across Africa to a world-class standard. Left Stronger than us, yet more at risk — gorillas stir something close to reverence.
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