Chapter Twenty-Two: Elusive Chimpanzees of Cyamudongo Forest
OMG.
12.18.2021 - 12.18.2021 70 °F
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The Cyamudongo Forest: a small forest of less than 20 square miles, (think The Plaza to Ward Parkway, State Line to Troost), near to but separated from Rwanda’s Nyungwe National Park. It has survived in part because it was not possible to farm on the slopes of these steep mountains. It is thicker, and as a result darker, and home to a habituated group of over 30 to 45 common chimpanzees—man’s closest relative, even closer than my now close friends, the gorillas. It is ringed by tea plantations and eucalyptus trees. Also in residence are Dent's Mona monkeys, L'hoest monkeys, Ruwenzori Colobus monkeys, velvet monkeys and, I am told, even more, including olive baboons. I think I'll need the Nikon and it's long zoom lens for this.
As nothing comes too easily, it is a 90-minute project for Sam to get me there from One&Only. On top of that, I must be picked up at 4:45am to get there "on time."
People living around this forest created serious problems in various ways. Gold Mining camps cut down trees to build shelters and for firewood. Hunters and poachers killed animals here for food. Honey harvesters burned the forest so the smoke would flush out the bees from their hives. That all stopped in 2005 when the place was turned into a protected national park. Good thing, too.
Half way there (more or less) we stop and pick up Jean Pierre, who I learn is to be my guide.
Just prior to 6:30am we are at the ranger station--such as it is--and I meet Viateur who will be a ranger and two other guests, Dave, a sixty-something man from Hong Kong and Sonia, a twenty-something Nigerian who is pursuing an MBA at Duke. I know how important a porter is so when I am asked I quickly say "yes" to employing one and am assigned Manaseh.
Trackers are with the habituated troop of chimpanzees we are to enjoy time with but they inform Jean Pierre that "they are on the move." Predicting the way they will move, we set out on foot up a rough road until we arrive at a trail that leads downward. Down we go. It rains here. The path is not too steep but it is muddy and slick and narrow. The obligatory walking stick we are given is as much a necessity as I make my way as is Manaseh.
About fifteen minutes in, Jean Pierre's radio crackles, he calls a halt, listens and decides that we will go back up the hill to the road and then back to our vehicles to ride to a different departure point. It seems the troop has gone off in an unpredicted direction. After a drive of 15 minutes or so, we disembark and head down the steep slope, finally on our way. The path is muddy and slippery but has been improved by creating steps of a sort. Imagine a piece of firewood about three feet long anchored perpendicular to the direction of travel by two pegs pounded down into the mud. Then imagine a series of those creating makeshift steps. This is a wonderful improvement to the typical path because it creates more sturdy footfalls. Down the steps we go. Sonia, Dave and I being students of geometry quickly realize that what goes down (us) must come up (also us). We know hard work awaits us.
About thirty minutes into this process, the slope steepens but a new wrinkle has been added: railings. This is first class to be sure. I would have taken photos of all this but the descent was arduous and I didn't want to risk falling by pulling out my iPhone. When one reaches the stream, one knows he has hit bottom. There is, imagine it, a bridge. We cross. (That's Manaseh at the end of the clip)
That's when the day literally turned into a nightmare.
The upslope was difficult and then became more difficult and then became nearly impossible as we veered from the staircase path into the bush. Moving now across the slope, my footing gave way multiple times. I was saved from tumbling down an impossible slope by the sure hand of Manaseh. Sonia and Dave were having no better luck than I. There was no path so there was no foothold to step onto. Manaseh made sure I followed his feet, my right behind his right and my left behind his left.
Such a pattern is made difficult when the leader is a thirty-something veteran of this environment and the follower is a seventy-something novice. True, that novice has been on five gorilla treks up and down mountains and through forests and on one crater walk up steep slopes but this was turning into something very different. Moving across the muddy slope is very difficult. When we turned to go down or to go up, it became even more so. Three times I stumbled so badly that I thought I was going over the edge but, each time, Manaseh saved me.
Becoming more exhausted as we continued on for an hour or so, we began to finally hear the cacophony that is a troop of chimpanzees. There is even a pristine footprint in the slippery mud. At last, I thought.
When we were among them, it became clear that I would not really see them. The foliage was dense so an observer would have to look through it. The chimps were high in the trees so that same observer would have to look up to find them. For me, standing on a precarious bit of mud on a slippery slope (Dave estimated it at 70 degrees steep), looking up represented a risk I could not take: I feared losing my balance.
At about this moment it finally hit me. This is stupid.
I am now in an unreasonably risky position to achieve what? I've been close to gorillas five times; these wonderful Chimpanzee creatures were not and are not my objective in coming to Rwanda and I am, perhaps overstating here and perhaps not, risking life and limb and hip and elbow and maybe more. As I said a moment ago, this is stupid. Dave and Sonia were not quite as worried about our position as was I. Soon, however, they begin to lobby for us to get out of there--I had remained quiet not wanting to spoil their experience--and I quickly weighed in with agreement. Afraid of falling, I took neither the iPhone out of my pocket or the Nikon out of my backpack. That explains why there are no pictures or videos but, to be straightforward, any pictures I look would have been Chimpanzee dots on a sea of green and any videos I took would have been more interesting for the sounds than the sights.
To depart from this spot, we had to go straight up (remember Dave made it to be a seventy degree incline). Slipping and sliding with an abyss at your stern is unsettling and upsetting. To be perfectly frank, I feel that Jean Pierre and the trackers put us in an unacceptable position facing a truly dangerous outcome. Their motive, I presume, was to get us to see chimpanzees. Their outcome did not justify the means.
I don't know how long it took but each step had to be planned. Some of those steps were tiny but others had to be very high, higher than my legs would reach. Manaseh, God bless him, drug me up that hill. He too slipped and slid but was able to grab a tree branch or root when he needed to.
Finally reaching an actual path, we all took stock of where we had been, how arduous it had been to go down and back up, and--having seen mostly nothing--were done with this.
Jean Pierre gave an obligatory information speech as we all tried to recover. "How long to get back up to the road?" Sonia asked. "Thirty minutes," Jean Pierre said. About an hour later, we made it to the road where Sam and his Nissan waited. I generously tipped Manaseh and, exhausted both mentally and physically, slid into the passenger seat. Jean Pierre got into the back seat and not a word of English was spoken for the next ninety minutes as Sam drove us back to One&Only. Sam and Jean Pierre had discussions in the local language but I have no idea of what was said between them. Surprisingly, Sam did not inquire as to my state of body or mind. Perhaps it was obvious to him but I could have used some empathy at that point and none was forthcoming. It was awkward having Jean Pierre in the vehicle and I wished it was not our role to get him where he needed to be.
As we neared the One&Only I made it clear to Sam that I would not be participating in the rest of the day's scheduled activities but he had already figured that out. "I am trying to get the doctor to come to One&Only so that you can get your COVID test done there," he said. "Do you have the $70 dollars it costs?"
The Natural World Safaris documentation clearly states the cost is $60 but I was not in a mood to even inquire about the discrepancy. When I wheeled off $70 in five dollar bills, Sam said, "Due to the poor exchange rate on small bills, you'd better make it $75." I gave him $80...all the cash I had.
At the front entrance to One&Only, Gloria waited. She sat me down on a low wall and, after handing me a hot towel, instructed her helper to get my boots and gators and socks off and whisk them away for cleaning. Providing me with some flip flops (it had just began to rain) she moved me a few steps to a covered golf cart and whisked me down the hill to my room. I have never enjoyed a hot shower more.
As I write this, it is 2:30pm and the drums outside warn of the arrival of new guests. Since arising just before 4:00am, I haven't eaten anything today, going forward on coffee and adrenaline alone. I think I shall opt for some lunch and a stiff drink.
After that, at 6:00pm, guess what: I GOT STILL ANOTHER COVID TEST! YEA! This one I need to depart Rwanda in two more days. The results are due back by 8:00am tomorrow morning. After the couple I mentioned earlier got positive results--one so far confirmed as a false positive and the other still hearing no word--I have some level of anxiety.
