The Bwindi Impenetrable Forest is one cut straight from the pages of the picture books I once read, books that depicted the steamy prehistoric jungles which the dinosaurs inhabited.
In Bwindi, I found the jungle of my childhood imagination, one so thick and tangled with vines that a Tyrannosaurus Rex could have stepped out in front of us and I’d only be partly surprised.
I was here in Uganda, and more specifically in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, to (hopefully) see and photograph one of our closest living relatives, the mountain gorilla.
The expedition had been months in the making, and only truly felt real as I stumbled through the pathless bush with a sheen of sweat covering my face, closely trailing the small team of Ugandan park rangers into the heart of the jungle.
Entering this 25,000-year-old rainforest is only permissible for a “mzungu” (foreigner) like me if accompanied by Bwindi park rangers. These are the gatekeepers to the forest and are sometimes on the literal frontlines of mountain gorilla conservation. They carry with them, amongst other things, the notorious AK-47.
The automatic rifle, however, is not for animals, rather a precaution in the off-chance that we encounter poachers. The odds of this, I was assured, were slim.
The rangers have a profound understanding of movement patterns of the different gorilla families, meaning that their expertise increases our odds considerably to encounter these jungle-dwelling great apes.
We venture off into the thick, tangled undergrowth, through flora of prehistoric proportions, courteously stepping over long parades of ants and ducking under curtains of cobwebs.
The jungle itself seems to be alive; it’s as though Bwindi has a heartbeat of its own, one you can hear in the chorus of singing insects and birds, one you can smell from the aroma of the wet soil and dew-dotted leaves, and one I could sense in a part of myself I sometimes forget exists, a part of myself that’s so easy to lose touch with in the urban world of the West.
Our team is small, and one made up of only a few mzungus. One is a young Czech woman, who tells me she’s been interested in catching a glimpse of the mighty mountain gorillas for years.Finally, she tells me, her dream is coming to fruition.
BATHROOM RULES
As we plod onwards, fatigued physically yet absolutely enchanted by the magic of the jungle, our Czech friend informs us that she needs to pause to use the bathroom. The only problem is that there is no bathroom in the forest, and urination and especially defecation is relatively frowned upon, as it may disturb the gorillas.
We are asked by the rangers to refrain from relieving ourselves, unless absolutely necessary. Urinating, they tell us, is permissible, but any fecal material we produce must be carried out of the jungle by us, should we choose to … well, you get it.
This rule is reason enough to hold it until well after I’m out of the jungle.
In the case of the Czech woman, she merely needed to pee, and our lead ranger, Goreth Niyibizi, cast her finger to the bush.
“Go there,” Goreth directs the Czech women. “We will wait here.”
I’m captivated by how fast the Czech woman is absorbed into this vast sea of green. She’s mere meters from us, and yet entirely invisible behind the veil of vegetation.
We wait in silence for her to complete her business when a yelp from the undergrowth suddenly pulls our attention back to wherever the Czech woman is.
She comes stumbling back out, a disheveled look on her face, as she madly fastens her belt back around her waist.
We stare at her, confused as to her sudden outburst.
“They’re here!” she tells us, her voice pulsing with excitement and yet only a notch above a whisper. “The gorillas! I saw one! I saw one! No, I saw two!”
GORILLAS IN THEIR MIDST
As luck would have it, in that moment, we found the long sought after mountain gorillas. Well, to be perfectly honest, they found us.
A mother gorilla, whose newborn baby clung to her chest, had nonchalantly sauntered past our Czech companion mid-urination.
The mother and baby’s entire family encircled us, we soon realized, quietly and gently basking in the chinks of sunlight that slid through the canopy as they gnawed, nonchalantly, on handful after handful of vegetation.
We had encountered the Mukiza gorilla family, numbering about 14 total individuals.
Like many gorilla families, the Mukiza gorillas were habituated, meaning that, over time, they’d grown accustomed to the presence of humans (researchers, conservationists, and rangers), so our presence wasn’t much of a disturbance to these apes.
Other than the occasional curious stare from some of the youngsters, as well as one or two assessing flits of the eye from the mighty silverback, the mountain gorillas simply went about their business as though we weren’t even there.
Surreal for us humans and seemingly mundane for the gorillas, it was an absolutely remarkable experience.
We sat, silently in the bush, ogling their every move –— from the formidable physique yet gentle nature of the silverback, to the matronly behavior of the mothers, to the mischievous bundles of black fur, the adolescents, that wrestled each other and climbed trees and pestered their father.
In their deep amber eyes and their humanlike hands, I saw a reflection of my own humanity.. Afterall, we humans share about 98% of our genetic material with mountain gorillas.
In them, you could trace back our own species’ lineage.
Mountain gorillas were recently reclassified from a critically endangered species to only an endangered species. Deforestation in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest has slowed considerably, as well as gorilla and other wildlife poaching within the park’s jurisdiction.
A lot of this is due to the efforts of the park rangers. Their tireless work to protect these gorillas and bring them back from the brink of extinction is something the entire world ought to learn from.
Despite the hues of hopefulness surrounding the future of the species, more work remains.
Climate change poses a significant threat, not just to gorillas and their precious habitats, but to us.
In the era of climate change, rainforests like Bwindi have never been more important, for they serve as major carbon sinks. Without them, we’d be in serious trouble.
Supporting climate action in one’s individual life, as well as on the legislative level, is the best way that we can ensure a good future for mountain gorillas and their homes and, in doing so, a healthy future for our own species.
For more, check out the documentary I made surrounding the expedition here: On the Frontlines of Great Ape and Rainforest Conservation in Uganda #Gorillas #Chimps #Uganda. Ryan Biller is a student at Colorado Mesa who has been doing freelance work for The Daily Sentinel.
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