I never really thought about Rwanda before. I mean, I saw the movie and considered the genocide but I never really thought about the country, especially not as a place where I would vacation; but here I was, last Friday, on an Ethiopian flight with my husband and SMP to Kigali.

I had no hand in planning this; my husband got obsessed with the idea of gorilla trekking after some guy from the US Embassy told him about it. I just half-assedly agreed to the trip and SMP decided to join us even though she had seen gorillas in Uganda before. After landing, clearing passport (no visa required for US citizens) and getting our bags, we were out in Kigali. The city is clean (plastic bags having been banned years ago) and spread out. We went to the genocide museum (more on that soon) and after a car breakdown we were on our way to Musazana to the extremely overpriced lodge from which the next day we would set off.

After nearly dying from exhaust being piped into the vehicle and frozen from cold wind blowing in through the window, we arrived about 9pm. The lodge being the only site on the main power grid, I could not see a damn thing and had no idea what was around. After a terrible meal and a much-deserved hot shower we got into bed to be prepared for the next day. By 6:45am we had eaten our terrible, overpriced breakfast and arrived at the Volcanoes National Park office with the 70 other white folk who were going to see golden monkeys, gorillas and (strangely) Dian Fossey’s grave. Our lack of planning and forethought was clearly evident in how we were dressed: although the other tourists were decked out in GoreTex, gators and Patagonia, I was wearing jeans and a gabardine pea coat, my husband had his fleece and SMP had on her trademark plunge neckline and hoop earrings.

As luck would have it, the husband, SMP and I were the only three of the 70 said white folk interested in gorilla trekking that day. We decided to go and see the largest group, which was also the farthest away. We loaded up with our guide for a 30-minute exhaust-filled ride to a small village near one of the volcanoes. We got out at the ranger base, got our armed guards and walking sticks and set off.

Contrary to what you might think about a place like Rwanda, it is really a beautiful country. As we began our walk up the terraced hills where villagers were planting potatoes and chrysanthemum (as mosquito repellant), we started to see the green, rolling landscape and low clouds. After about two hours of climbing at a 75 degree slope and having children run out and scream “ferangu” at us, we reached a big pile of rocks. This, the ranger/guide told us, was the national forest. After this point there could be no eating, no smoking (which we weren’t), no loud talking, and no defecating without first digging a 30 centimeter hole. One of the soldiers hacked down the wall and we went in. Now, I ain’t never been in a rainforest before and the brush was thick; before I could even enter I was besieged with spiders and insects. The guides had to hack their way through the vines and bamboo to make a path for us while radioing the trackers who spend all day with the gorilla pods. We trudged on for about another hour, all the while getting smacked in the face with wet tree limbs, getting hung on vines, having rain trickle down on us, freezing in the cold. It seemed like we were walking in circles, but then we saw it: gorilla poo.

Before long, we stopped and the guide told us to put down our bags and walking sticks. We were here and the gorillas were close. We did as we were told and I stepped around a tree and there they were.

A member of the Susa Group

It was like they were waiting for us, all 21 of them. I saw Poppy (a gorilla researched by Dian Fossey) and her baby first. The rest were stretched out in a clearing, relaxing. It was literally a scene out of the best-staged documentary: the mist rolled in, the younger members of the group played with each other and ran towards us. It was simply amazing. We were able to spend an hour with the gorillas, during which time they were mainly eating, yawning, sleeping, scratching themselves and farting. They are extremely sedate creatures (or at least this group was too familiar with humans after years of being researched). There were three silverbacks we could see and the one closest to us had a cold and spent the time we were there picking his nose and eating it. One of the 1-year-old twins ran towards us, turned around, peed in our direction, and then began to make kissing noises and shake her head back and forth with her mouth wide open. The younger gorillas climbed up the trees while the mothers nursed their babies. It’s hard to believe that I actually got to be that close to them—less than four feet from a booger eating silverback!

One of the babies.

We took tons of photos (which I swear I will post) and it was not long before we had to leave. We set off back through the forest and it was a full-on rain by the time we got back to the rock fence boundary. Walking back down, I fell once while SMP fell a record four times down the muddy sides of the hills. When we got back to the car and received our certificates, we were beat, covered in mud, cold and completely wet. Although it took a long hike through the rain and a few thousand dollars, it was worth it.

This morning, while getting ready for work, I saw last night's Nightline program, concidentally about the same trip. You can read about it here.