Bushwhacked !

Annemarie:

As I jumped out of the car and strode across the thorny scrub by the roadside I could see the bent figure of an old woman coming round the curve in the road. I was intent on getting up close to an unusual flowering bush I had spotted so hadn't paid much attention to her but the next moment she was only yards away and hailing me. OK, best go over to her and find out what she wants… fatal! Soon I am surrounded by a crowd of people who appear as if from nowhere. The old lady is busy miming something, which entails her squatting down and then sleeping and pointing over the hill. Her family live over there and she would like to take me to see them?

A tall chap with a smart jacket is now interpreting, oh, she wants some salt, I got that wrong. Now she wants to stroke my hair, which seems to really please her so I go along with the moment.

A crowd of three adolescent boys/nearly men, bearing long thin switches arrive; they are strutting and oozing attitude as only their age group can, but crack up laughing at each other like children when I take some pics and show them to them.

Oh then two older ladies wearing plaid cloaks and a lot of beads peer curiously at the goings on. They are very animated, but pose alarmingly well when I turn the camera towards them; they chuckle delightedly at the result.

Finally there are the cool dudes in hats who push to the front. One is wearing a baseball hat and clutching an odd looking stool, the other has a strange looking ‘tophat’ kind of affair, with a feather. Oh and last but not least a very old gentlemen with a knitted yellow Arsenal hat and a red M&S style raincoat that I could have sworn my mother used to own. He coughs and nurses what he says is a bad wrist and asks for some medicine. We break out the disgusting travel sweets and offer him several, which he accepts with a sage nod.

By now Martin is opening the passenger door and indicating I should be getting in and quickly. We are going to end up driving in the dark again this evening if we’re not swiftly on the road again so I bid goodbye to my new-found friends and climb back in. I wave, they raise their hands, hats and sticks and off we go again down a rutted dusty red track towards Mount Elgon on the eastern-most fringes of Uganda.

The people I met are Karamojong. Their current attire of plaid cloaks, hats with feathers and the wooden stools are an adaptation of their original traditional dress – or rather undress. During Idi Amin’s reign they were ‘obliged’ (by armed soldiers) to adapt their normal near-naked existence. So, their hats with feathers now replace the traditional feather headdress. The plaid cloaks and skirts though are close to a Scottish look. I didn’t capture a picture but many of the women are wearing gathered plaid skirts that swing dramatically as they walk, looking so like kilts it’s uncanny. Last King of Scotland takes on a new meaning.

Kidepo

Martin:

Kidepo National Park lies in the rugged, semi-arid valleys between Uganda's borders with South Sudan and Kenya. As Annemarie explained earlier this was once, and in someways still is, a troubled region and the park is Uganda's most isolated. As such it receives very few visitors willing to make the 700 km trek from Kampala. But the rewards for making the journey are enormous - literally. Vast herds of water buffalo and elephant make the park their home in the dry season - when we were there. The lions and leopards make way for them travelling to the outer reaches of the park - not surprisingly - though we ventured to the very edge of the park and the South Sudan border we didn't meet any big cats this time.

Mato Oput

Annemarie:

North East Uganda is known internationally for the atrocities meted out by the Lord’s Resistance Army on the local Acholi people including the abduction of huge numbers of children - often for recruitment to their forces as child soldiers. The main violence ended in 2006 when the LRA was largely driven out of Uganda so as we were travelling through the area, north from Gulu, up to Kitgum, we knew the background but didn’t really expect to come face to face with anything that related to the past violence, As we drove though it was hard not to notice how different things seemed. In other areas of rural Uganda people are always walking or cycling along the roadside. Bikes are overladen completely with everything from bananas and sugar cane to bricks and rolled, corrugated metal roofing panels. Women carry terrific loads on their heads: firewood; charcoal; water; sacks of grain. As evening approaches you’ll see them with huge farming tools carefully balanced as they walk home from a long day in the fields. But as we neared Kitgum, groups of similarly aged people were walking by the roadside but not carrying anything. There were hardly any agricultural tools to be seen and the fields didn’t seem intensely cultivated. It felt odd, we couldn’t pin down why, but it was unusual.

As we parked up for the night in Kitgum we were approached by a Hektor admirer. After giving John Paul a quick drive, we find that he is Exec Director of a local charity, the Irene Gleeson Foundation and after a longer conversation he asks us to meet with David, the manager of the local radio station - Mighty Fire. We oblige of course and over supper are persuaded to appear on the radio the next morning. It’s all very surreal. We walk up a dusty road to the hilltop station and into the studio and immediately we’re sat, headphones on and waiting for our cue. What on earth will be relevant about anything we might have to say?  But David, who’s interviewing us, is the ultimate professional and Martin, whose first job was as a radio reporter, is not at all phased. The conversation is steered towards how to succeed at something new, how to start up a business, what we have learned from our travels, what we admire in people we have met. I am asked about my role in sustainability,  about businesses supporting local communities and I explain all I can.  What we hadn't expected was the phone-in but the Q&A  brought out some fascinating questions and made us realise people were actually listening to us.

Afterwards David takes us to a viewpoint above the station to show us where the fighting took place, how the town still bears the scars of the battles but more importantly how people are moving on. He describes the local reconciliation ceremony - Mato Oput, which means 'Bitter Root'. He talks about returning child soldiers and how members of the LRA are still out in the bush. The forgiveness he describes is remarkable. The communities are gradually recovering. There is still a lot of NGO intervention; the population of Kitgum grew massively and unnaturally as people were herded into Internally Displaced People camps during the LRA years. They relied heavily on aid afterwards and, due to the displacement, families were torn apart and skills lost, land boundaries and ownership wiped out. It’s a long recovery process and no wonder the area feels different. We came away humbled again by what we’d learned.

 I’ve found that films and photographs of survivors of the conflict have been collated by Christian Aid in collaboration with the National Peace and Memory Documentation Centre in northern Uganda, which is helping survivors of the conflict to record their stories. Norman Okello’s account is especially moving.

A game of two halves

Annemarie:

A little boy glances up at me as I pick my way carefully along the crowded walkway between houses. He and his sister are squatting on the ground doing the washing up. A charming scene until you pan your vision out to take in the open sewer nearby. My guide hurries us along, past an unlikely ‘House of Pain’ gym; people shelling peas and husking corn cobs outside their homes; pots on the boil on charcoal fires; chickens running, babies wailing as they are scooped up by their mothers and all the time we’re followed by an increasing crowd of fascinated youngsters. Some are walking along behind, others reaching out to touch me, and the brave ones are skipping ahead anticipating our destination. This is not an unprecedented visit, I am with Ivan Kakembo an ex professional footballer who now CEO of SC Villa, a successful Ugandan team, a Director of the Ugandan Youth Soccer Academy but is also the founder of a charity supporting homeless street orphans from Kampala’s slums.

We arrive at a doorway and are welcomed inside by a vital young woman called Jane Siyango. It’s cosy, no more than 2m square; a curtain separates the sleeping area from the daytime space, which is completely dominated by a large shelving unit and a big easy chair. It’s spic and span even though the floor is earth and the walls and ceiling are grain sacks. A stool is drawn up for me to sit on and we chat about Jane’s role as the social visitor for the scheme as well as a mum with a foster daughter now attending the Soccer Academy.

A young girl is hopping about impatiently, keen to take us to see her foster mum too, so Jane leads us back through the maze of homes and the detritus of everyday slum living. We find our next mum selling vegetables from a seat by the window in her tiny home. It’s a business the charity has supported her in setting up. For some they make microloans and others they provide equipment such as sewing machines, all to help the families create some of their own income.  Children crowd round to peer inside as we take a picture of her with her foster daughter, Lydia.

The children often come from the troubled north east of Uganda, seeking their fortunes in the city only to find there’s no work, nowhere to stay and all too often people prepared to exploit them. Ivan’s charity helps with an Academy place where the children board in term time, studying in the week and playing football on Saturdays. At the same time they find parents in the slums who will support them and take them in at weekends and in holidays. The charity pays the families a small allowance to do this.

We walk on to our next home where this mum smiles proudly as we talk to her son, Ibrahim, who really is making a lot of progress in the football world and may get a club position. Some children are the natural offspring, others fostered. None are selected by the charity they have to want to join so must approach the Academy and ask for a place. This often happens after a football practice session, it’s the sport that draws them in although obviously they gain a home and an education as much as anything.

The charity was started by Ivan and his brother, also a football player, a couple of years ago and they now support around 150 youngsters. The football clubs are not wealthy enough to help out and government doesn’t want to know so most support comes from individual donations. Each child can be sponsored for around £30 a month. It seems like a tiny amount to make such a difference.

 If anyone reading this is interested in knowing more here's a link to the soccer academy for more details.

As I leave and cross the road we’re in university campus territory – right next to the slum. Some of the mums and children come to the car park to say goodbye. I ask Lydia and yes, she says, she would like to go to university, she wants to be a teacher. I believe she’ll make it.

As I get into the car I realise that despite the abject poverty I have witnessed, throughout my visit not one person has asked me for money or begged. Humbling stuff…

Out with a Splash

Martin:

Saturday morning we set off to Jinja - 50 miles east of Kampala on the shores of Lake Victoria.  This is the start of the White Nile one of the two major sources of the River Nile (the other, the Blue Nile, is in Lake Tana in Ethiopia where we'd be going in a few weeks time).

The rapids and waterfalls of Jinja are also one of the best places in Africa to go white water rafting. How could we resist? Rapids here are graded levels 3 - 5. There's a grade 6 too but only the most experienced rafters and kayakers are allowed on that. We settled for 4's and 5's. Extreme enough. Especially as we were tipped in more than once - and when you get caught underwater in the downpull of a rapid it seems like forever before you come to the surface again.

We went through 8 rapids in all. I think we stayed out of the water in 4 of them - 50% isn't too bad. A real adrenaline rush and at the end of the day, after we'd past the last rapid, we leapt into the water and the four of us drifted serenely down the Nile. Well fairly serenely, I don't think Sophie was totally convinced there weren't crocodiles about!

It was a lovely end to Dan and Sophie's far too short trip with us around Uganda. In the early hours of Sunday morning they caught a flight back via Cairo to the UK. It had been less than a week but Annemarie and I had loved being with them both. It was a reminder of how much we were missing back at home and very hard to say goodbye.

Hanging Out

Martin:

Friday morning and we're off tracking Apes again - but this time it's chimpanzees we're in search of not Gorillas. But the denizens of Kibale Forest, near fort Portal, are not inclined to come down from the tree tops to say hello. We get a few  glimpses, including of a mother and baby making their way through the forest and we hang around a long time at the bottom of trees stretching our neck muscles looking up into the canopy but it seems as though we won't get an awful lot closer this morning.

Until we come across one of the oldest members of the troop. Unlike his younger relatives he seems more than happy to hang out with us at ground level. At the risk of being anthropomorphic over this he clearly seems to be enjoying the attention of our cameras. Striking pose after languid pose - the aging supermodel of Kibale. A Bill Nighy of the forest.

Bouncing Along

Martin:

We don’t get very far down the rough mountain road out of Bwindi this morning before we notice a problem. Hektor is bucking up and down like a rowing boat in a storm. Every bump sets us bouncing – a rhythm that keeps going for some seconds even after we stop. There’s clearly something wrong with the front shocks. Almost certainly partly due to the fact that last night Hector ended up carrying 8 people back from the Gorilla trekking. The two guides hanging on to the rear ladder and the spare wheel may have upset his balance somewhat. The guides and another trekker had been abandoned by a couple of Germans in a chauffeur-driven minibus who had given them a lift out for the start of their trek but had decided they didn't feel like taking them back again. We’d done the decent thing and offered everyone a lift. Me driving, Sophie on Dan's knee in the front, two on the small back seat, Annemarie sitting on the fridge (and hitting her head on the ceiling with every bump) and the tqo guides hanging onto the rear. The morning after the night before we seemed to be paying for it.

Hektor though is pretty tough so we kept going. Heading for Queen Elizabeth National Park and what we hoped would be a date with some tree climbing lions. The usual long drive made a little slower by the fact we had to be much more careful over the bumps if we were to avoid causing more damage and/or incurring bad cases of sea sickness. We made it to the park on a rather circuitous route - which almost had us across the border in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Despite that all seemed to be going fine and then, a  few miles further down the road disaster struck. We hit a pothole and one of Hektor’s front springs popped out entirely. On closer inspection it turned out both front shocks had completely blown out of their casings and with nothing to hold the spring in place it had come free.

Given we were hoping to find lions nearby this was clearly not a great place to break down. But with Dan and Sophie on-board there were four of us to put Hektor back together again. Daniel also having had experience of landrover’s was an enormous help. We lifted Hektor up with the high lift jack and were able to drag the spring back into place. He was fixed, at least temporarily, but the shocks were still blown so we knew we'd have to be more careful from now on if we were to avoid a repeat performance.

We’d lost a lot of time fixing Hektor from what was already a tight schedule – not just the lions to see today but also a river cruise. At the park entrance one of the ranger’s advised that we probably wouldn’t now  have time to find the lions and make the river cruise. We’d have to choose between the two but he was pretty sure we wouldn’t see lions anyway - no one had recently. Perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. The decision had been made for us – time to bounce onward to the river. After all we already had our sea legs now.

The river trip took us down the 20 mile long Kazinga Channel which runs between Lake Edward and Lake George. We found its banks lined with hippo, water buffalo, elephant and crocodile and a huge abundance of bird life. It was a small boat and we were the only ones on it so our boatman was able to get us incredibly close to the wildlife. The beauty of the river cruise turned what otherwise could have been a disappointing and frustrating day into absolute joy.

Even the prospect of a final two hours of bouncing along to our overnight stop in Fort Portal didn't seem quite so bad anymore.

Although some might disagree!

Gorillas

Martin:

A trek to see the mountain gorillas was always going to be one of the highlights of our trip. We could have gone to see them in Rwanda but decided to climb a volcano in a downpour instead. We could have gone to see them in southern Uganda but went walking with the Batwa. No, what we really wanted to do was to save the trip for when Dan and Sophie came over.  And Bwindi Impenetrable Forest in western Uganda is probably the best place on earth to see gorillas. And it's estimated that there are less than 900 individuals mountain gorillas left in the world so visiting their home is real privilege.

After a bumpy drive through the mountains with our guide we set off up through farmlands and tea plantations. No sign of an impenetrable forest here. But less than an hour later we pass through the tree line and very suddenly we are in deep jungle. We're on a very steep slope down towards where trackers had spotted one of the gorilla groups. This was real Indiana Jones stuff - perfect.

First sign of the gorillas? Well the poo along the path! Getting more exciting. Then we hear them. We are close. They are just through the trees. Suddenly a glimpse of one and within a few minutes we are right in the middle of a group of 8 or so. A male silverback, some females and adolescents and a young baby.

All are happily feeding on plant stems. Unlike chimpanzees, gorillas are complete vegetarians (I believe they may eat ants!). They are not bothered at all by our presence. It's humbling to be so close to such large and magnificent animals. Their power is obvious, but it's a gentle power. There is no sense of threat whatsoever. Somehow we have an immediate affinity with this group. Chimpanzees maybe our closer relatives but gorillas seem more like members of the family. I've taken some film (below) and photographs but now it's time to put down the camera and just enjoy being with them for all to short a time.

Flying Visit

Martin:

Another long and rough drive down from Murchison Falls to Kampala. Keen to get there in just a day because we need Sunday free to pull everything out of Hektor and put it into storage for a week. Why? Because on Monday Daniel and Sophie are coming over to join us for a week and we're planning a big circuit around Uganda to see the sights.

We're both really looking forward to having them over and I've missed both Daniel and Oliver a lot over Christmas. I wish Oliver could be here too but I know he's busy with exams and can't make it this time. As it is we have to wait a little longer to see Daniel and Sophie. The Egypt Air flight from London arrives late in Cairo and they miss the connection to Kampala. After a long wait at the airport they are routed by Addis Abba to Kampala. On arrival Sophie's bag has gone missing. Not a great start for them both, but at least they arrive in time for us to take a little sunset cruise on Lake Victoria. And it is absolutely amazing to have them both with us. It's only for  a few days though so we're going to make the most of it.

The next morning we're up early for the drive to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest where we plan to go gorilla tracking the next day. We camp in the mountains - Annemarie and I in the roof tent, Dan and Sophie in a second tent we've packed for the journey but so far haven't used. Their lucky this is our first campground without troublesome animals wandering about!

That ‘Out of Africa’ moment

 Annemarie:

Martin was being quite mysterious as we launched off the main track going north west from Murchison. We were traveling out of the park and heading for Kampala but via the scenic route. As we ploughed on the track became less distinct and holes began to qualify as small craters.  Undeterred we pressed on. There was nothing to suggest there would be anything other than a nice view of the park’s plains, we were climbing a bit but nothing dramatic, so I was stunned when the track came to an abrupt halt on the edge of a red sandstone cliff overlooking a winding river and flood plain. From Nyamsika Cliff we could see for miles and suddenly it really felt like the Africa of the movies. No, Martin didn’t wash my hair, but as we sat on the cliff and watched, a warthog family crossed the river , followed by an elephant and her calf and the moment was magical, hard to capture even in the photos but here are a few….

Three Warthogs Walked into a bar ...

Annemarie:

We’ve driven like mad things to get from Fort Portal to the Murchison Falls National Park in time for an evening trip down the river. It’s been a bumpy ride and we had to leave before sunrise, which for those who know me is not my best time of day so I’m a bit grumpy. We make it to the boat with seconds to spare but had not had time to check out the camp-site first so it’s a bit of a pain when we eventually get there after dark and find that the accommodation for people with their own vehicle is actually the car park. Quick decision to take a ready erected tent and we’re soon laid out in twin camp beds, which is probably a good move given that M has caught my moodiness and just ‘wants to be alone’.  I stomp off to the bar and order a drink and some supper and am just opening my beer when in walk three enormous warthogs! Cool as anything they don’t head to the kitchen area or tables but root about by the bar tipping over the bin full of empty cans. I could have sworn I heard one grunt ‘Arf a lager and a packet of crisps’ ….

Next day we’re both in better tempers and head off (earlyish) to view the dramatic falls themselves, but maybe Murchison has a bit of an effect on couples:  it’s famous as the site for Bogart and Hepburn’s ‘African Queen’ and they bickered like anything. Another couple came off badly when they visited; Ernest Hemingway and his fourth wife were flying low near the falls in a chartered Cessna, the plane crash-landed, injuring them both and they spent the night on the river bank. The plane they chartered to get them away again then crashed on take off, causing Hemingway more injuries and bad burns.  The couple who named the falls in the first place seemed to have had a good time though, Florence and Samuel Baker, exploring the source of the Nile in 1864, were so overawed on paddling round a corner and witnessing the falls they said it was  ‘the most important object along the course of the river ‘ and named it in honour of the president of the Royal Geographic Society. In recognition of our encouragement by the current RGS, we took a lot of pics including one with our much travelled RGS bag, and Monkey.

New Year in Uganda with Dutch Doughnuts

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Annemarie:

Without the views of the Rwenzori Mountains (Mountains of the Moon) Fort Portal in North West Uganda won’t blow your socks off but it does have a great deal of charm with some Dutch and Asian influences and was the base for our New Year.

The mountains were shrouded in mist for most of our visit but on New Year’s Eve afternoon we didn’t care, we were headed for town in search of parts to help us repair our Land Rover’s water tank tap, which had developed a serious leak.  From a standing start we tried the first hardware shop we came across. No joy, but the owner was a gem and directed us to another shop in the parallel street. OK, brilliant, he was right and one part of the jig-saw puzzle of our tap joint was solved but we needed some plumbers tape and another pipe. Across the street we found the tape and they knew exactly where we could get the pipe.  This last port of call felt unpromising from the outside but once inside it was like an Aladdin’s cave, stacked from ceiling to floor with shelves overflowing with stock. The two young Asian lads behind the counter looked as though they were just minding the shop for their dad, but we were so wrong; they knew what we were asking for straight away and then when their first offered pipe wasn’t the right fit they sought out a metal flexi-pipe and a joint and cut it to size. Amazing service.

Next stop was a café, we needed a caffeine intake and we’d heard that a relatively new restaurant, the Dutchess was the best in town. Oh were we pleased with that coffee! The best cappuccino since Kigali and we were also offered some traditional Dutch New Year cakes, hmm, this New Year was shaping up in my kind of (cake-influenced) way. And then we met the bakers of these wonderful delicacies as they were beginning to make pizza dough and of course a story began to unfold. The restaurant was set up by a Dutch couple who had been travelling through Africa and decided Fort Portal was THE place to put down roots and set up a business. They source food as locally as possible, have trained the bakers with input from Italian expertise, set up their own dairy, trained and developed the staff and encouraged them to gain skills and qualifications and are supporting young people in their efforts to earn university fees by paying them good wages and selling art and craft work in the restaurant. It could have been a second ‘Heaven’. How wonderful to meet another like-minded team of people so soon after our wonderful Kigali experience. Heleen Meijer, the owner was such a generous hostess and talked to us with passion about what they are doing and want to achieve and her team was a testament to her belief in the business.

By complete coincidence we were staying for New Year’s Eve with another wonderfully hospitable Dutch woman – Ineke Jongorious at the Rwenzori View and when we got back from our outing we were offered a drink and …Oliebollen! One can never have too many in my newly converted eyes so here’s a link to Nigella’s recipe for Oliebollen  - although in both instances we had raisins in ours which are a delicious addition so here’s an alternative from Jamie.

And to work it all off on New Year's Day we took an 18 km walk up to the crater lake outside Fort Portal.

The Batwa Trail

Martin:

And so across the border from Rwanda into Uganda. First impressions - Uganda seems far more relaxed than Rwanda. Immediately apparent by the number of motorcyclists none of whom are wearing helmets despite the law being that they should. In Rwanda that rules are strictly enforced; in Uganda the police turn a blind eye. It's not that helmets are particularly expensive in Uganda, nor that Ugandans have an urge to rebel once on two wheels. No the real reason, we were assured later, is to do with the number of hair salons in the country. Good hair is important to Ugandans and they're not about to have it spoilt by a helmet. If you're going to be mown down by a truck you might as well look good!

Dodging the haircuts we headed south west into the corner of Uganda that borders both Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. We're only a few miles away from Mount Bisoko, which we climbed a couple of days ago. Today it was back into the forest but this time with three Batwa guides. The Batwa are a pygmy tribe - the original hunter-gatherer inhabitants of these forests. When the forest was designated as a national park in the early 90s the Batwa were evicted. Since they had no title to land they received no compensation. They were forced to live as tenants on the surrounding farmlands - an alien, unforested land. Today the Batwa are banned from hunting in Mgahinga National Park but poaching still goes on. Our three guides had been caught poaching some years earlier and in lieu of a fine had opted to re-train as guides. Today they help run the newly established Batwa trail - a joint venture with the Uganda Wildlife Authority - that helps promote and preserve the Batwa way of life and brings some much needed revenue to the community.

They threw themselves into the experience with gusto. Gleefully showing us how they could catch and kill an imaginary water buffalo or use snares to trap small game. We were shown which plants were good to eat and which ones could be used to counter the affects of poisons. One rather graphic acting out of the effects an emetic would have to flush toxins out of one's system will live with me for sometime!

The trip ended with a descent into a magnificent underground cave system which had been both a spiritual centre and a place of refuge during times of conflict. Emerging back into the light the day ended with a traditional dance - this bit seemed a little bit touristy but was worth it for the surprise appearance of a guest dancer !!

3711 metres of volcano and an armed guard

Annemarie:

After a rather indulgent Christmas we needed to hit the road again so we headed north to the Parc de Volcans and the challenge of a trek up Mt Bisoko, an extinct volcano with a crater lake as the reward at the top. 

The National Park protects the Rwandan sector of the Virunga Mountains, a range of six extinct and three active volcanoes that are shared by the Democratic Republic of Congo, Uganda and Rwanda. It’s most famous for its population of mountain gorillas, but we were wanted to follow them later in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest on the Ugandan side so opted to simply trek.

If anyone has watched the recently released documentary film Virunga you might not be surprised to know that we set off on our trek guided by a park ranger and supported by porters and were soon to be joined by an armed squad of Rwandan soldiers, but to us it seemed quite strange. We were expecting  a strenuous walk but surely nothing needing six AK47s and a lot of extra muscle. How wrong we were …

It started gently enough, striding up from the village below, through fields white with the daisy-like flowers of Pyrethrum and dark green with potatoes. We huffed and puffed a bit behind a team of three young French women who were on a weekend off from their volunteering work and fit as fleas. We had eschewed the help of porters but three seemed to be following along anyway; we were a mixed group to say the least.

 As fields gave way to the eucalyptus of the foothills we started to see views worthy of scenes from Gorillas in the Mist, the wooded slopes lit by the relatively early morning sun burning off the moist air.  We were making good progress now but round a bend in the path we stopped, met by six armed soldiers. After a bit of chat they fell in and joined us. Martin questioned the guide as to why we might need them and it seemed the guns were needed to frighten off buffalo we might surprise. Hmmm?

The going rapidly got tougher, steep steps had been roughly cut in the mountainside between dense undergrowth. Thick red mud sucked at our boots when we couldn’t find a drier route through. We huffed and puffed a bit more and soon one of the porters was helping me take the bigger steps up and avoid the worst of the mud. Turning round for a picture you could see how rapid our ascent was but clouds were now gathering. Progress became slower as we reached the sign for Dian Fossey’s grave; it was seriously steep and treacherously slippy. ‘My’ porter was a brilliant support; the French team was also being given a helping hand now and even Martin succumbed to an occasional push as we climbed ever upwards. 

Then the hail began and what we had thought was a rocky, muddy path showed its true colours, it was a stream bed! We scrambled to the summit, took a quick wet snap of the crater-lake and were told this was also the Congolese border and we should probably descend quite quickly.

We needed no encouragement, but if up had been tough, down was tougher. The army AND the porters were needed to help us all now as we slid and slithered though mud, rocks and undergrowth.  My incredibly strong and waterproof walking boots were now letting in water like a pair of slippers and I was pretty fed up - but my support now was from one of the young soldiers and he couldn’t have been kinder and more cheerful. As we broke back out of the thick vegetation the sun came out again and as if on cue he turned round with a huge smile ‘You go now..’ and he and his team disappeared into the trees, instantly invisible.

I was never so grateful to see a potato field as we came back into the cultivated landscape. Children of the workers weeding the crop raced ahead, giggling, to stare at us curiously from behind their mother’s skirts. What on earth had we been doing up their mountain? What on earth indeed.

 Footnote:

The money we paid to enter the park, to trek and to the porters for their help provides a valuable source of income for the area and the individuals.  The film Virunga is an incredible testament to the bravery and dedication of park rangers like ours. It’s set in the Congolese Virunga National Park and the town of Goma and describes the time just two years ago when the rebel army, M23, were battling with the Congolese army; the park and it’s population were caught in the crossfire, both actual and political. For added British shame there’s also an oil exploration company involved in the story.  Watch Virunga now on Netflix - it's up for a BAFTA.

 

Christmas in Heaven

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Annemarie:

After Christmas eve in Rwanda’s National Genocide Museum we perhaps needed a little light relief and so pampered ourselves spending Christmas itself in Heaven. We haven’t been angelic enough for the real thing so we settled for a wonderful restaurant with rooms in the leafy presidential suburb of Kigali, but it was pretty heavenly: hot showers, comfy beds and great food and what’s more it was another ethical choice. 

Heaven was set up by Alissa Ruxin, an American who was originally volunteering in Rwanda for ‘Generation Rwanda’, an organisation providing university scholarships for orphans. She decided to set up a business that would provide vocational training and employment for young adults and ‘Heaven’ was born! There’s a whole book telling the story of what Alissa, her husband Josh and the team at Heaven have achieved  A Thousand Hills to Heaven and Martin kindly bought it for me for Christmas. The restaurant and rooms were juts the start, now the craft shop, art gallery, events and sourcing of local ingredients really bring a community together and provide a means of visitors to Rwanda making a contribution and for local people to support communities and small farm producers. They are still developing and this year are setting up the ‘Heaven Hospitality Academy’ courses so, more power to their elbow! Their team was certainly made our Christmas Day and Boxing Day very special. Read more about them or make contact at Heaven

 I explained how many other enterprises we have discovered in our travels and they are very happy for any of them to get in touch for advice or to share experiences.

Rwanda's Journey

Martin:

How to feel about Rwanda after Burundi? As Annemarie wrote earlier Rwanda's tiny southern neighbour is a country about which very little seems to have been written. Some told us it might be dangerous to go there. That it was poor and unstable, liable to erupt into violence at any point. That crime was rife.  True, it's certainly not on the tourist map. With poor infrastructure and very little to attract visitors - unless of course they intend training for the mountain stage of the Tour de France. We'd only be granted a three day transit visa so our journey through the country was swift - but it was fascinating and I think we got some measure of Burundi even in such a short time. It's a stunningly beautiful country and if it can solve its problems and find some stability then surely it must have a bright future.

Rwanda on the other hand is a bit of an enigma. For the last decade or so it's been a "bucket list" destination - largely due to the opportunities it offers to go gorilla trekking in its northern forests. Yet its only 20 years since the country tore itself despite. Over the course of a 100 days in 1994, up to a million of it's citizens, 20% of the population and 70% of the Tutsis then living in the country, were brutally murdered in a planned genocide by the largely Hutu political elite.

Yet today Rwanda is a success story. Its progress towards the modern world one of the most rapid in Africa. A remarkable turn around and one the government of the country and its people should be proud of. Western governments are now falling over themselves to be associated with the new Rwanda. But I can't help feeling that something is not quite right here. Today in Rwanda talk of ethnicity is outlawed. Discussing it can land one in jail for the crime of "divisionism".  There's a cork very firmly wedged into the Rwandan bottle and maybe the pressure is building inside? Perhaps that's an understandable response to the need to draw a shattered country and divided people back together again. There's certainly no doubting that in many ways the strategy has worked. But I wonder at what cost to freedom of expression. There are still questions to be asked about the recent history but its not always easy to ask them.

After arriving in Rwanda we travelled to Butare or Huye -depending on whether you use the old or the new name. From there we visited the Murambi Genocide Memorial Centre. In April 1994 Murambi was a partially built technical school on a stunningly beautiful hilltop location. Yet in the early days of the genocide 50,000 Tutsi were sent there - supposedly for their own safety - only to have their water and power cut off by the authorities. When the local militias were sent in to kill the Tutsi they were repelled - but on the morning of the 21st April 1994 the interahamwe returned armed with guns, grenades and machetes. Only 12 or so refugees are known to have escaped the massacre that followed. After the killings the authorities buried the bodies in mass graves. When the bodies were later exhumed many of them were found to have been mummified by the heat of decomposition. Today around a 1000 of those victims have been preserved with lime and lain out on low white-painted tables in one of the buildings. A lasting memorial to the horrors of the genocide.

The grim reminder of man's inhumanity to man, woman, child and baby is incredibly moving. I couldn't help thinking of the casts at Pompeii in the way the bodies are contorted in their dying moments. But this was no natural disaster and these were real bodies. It's visually extremely powerful - but for me it felt wrong to photograph it. A little too much like Dark Tourism. The bodies are something you need to see first hand if at all. So here instead on the site is a shot of one of the buildings and Annemarie's very moving photograph of the racks of clothes gathered from the bodies in the graves.

Murambi is one of several genocide memorials and museums across Rwanda - including the main centre in the capital at Kigali which we later visited on Christmas Eve (I know not exactly traditional!). All tell the official history of the genocide. Some have questioned whether that is the full story. While we were in Rwanda a major row had flared up over a recent BBC documentary. It repeated claims that the majority of the genocide victims were not Tutsis but Hutus and that the current president, Paul Kagame, who led the largely Tutsi RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front) liberation forces, had allowed the massacres to take place in order to further his own aims.

A few days after visiting Murambi we stayed at Jangwe Lodge - a beautiful retreat in the hills on the way to Kigali. Its run by Georges Kamanayo-Gengoux, a Rwandan/Belgian, and his Belgian wife Lydia. Georges is also a documentary maker and since we hadn't seen the BBC film up to that point he invited us in to watch it with him. To have Georges perspective on the film and on the future of the country was a real bonus. And I certainly went away with lots to think about. Though coming to understand Rwanda - its past and its future will take a lot longer I think. I look forward to watching Georges own film Kazungu, Le Metis about the search for his roots as a way of learning more.

Rwanda's Sweet Dreams

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Annemarie:

OK, so I’m supposed to be looking for community bakeries but how could I resist locally made ice-cream? We discovered a fabulous café, Inzozi Nziza, in Huye, Southern Rwanda, set up in 2010. It serves the most delicious cinnamon ice-cream, locally produced coffee and of course cakes and biscuits. We had to visit three times (for a consistency test of course) and I can say that the banana bread is consistently delicious and a lot better than my recent attempts.

The café’s profits go to support a cooperative of women from a drumming group called Ingoma Nshya and the women we met, including Louise in the middle of the pic, told me about their work and how happy they are with what their project is achieving.

The name of the café, Inzozi Nziza, translates as Sweet Dreams and the project has featured in a film of the same title created in 2012 Sweet Dreams. It tells the story of how a Rwandan theatre director, Kiki Kitese, set up the women’s drumming group to help those widowed and orphaned after the 1994 genocide. On a visit to New York she enjoyed ice cream at a Brooklyn ice-creamery and invited the owners to help her set up a shop in Rwanda. The film traces the path of the women in the drumming group and their involvement in setting up the café and ice cream shop, giving an insight to what they suffered and how they are recovering - as well as the joy of drumming and ice-cream!

 Chatel who served us is on the right of the pic and gave her email in case anyone wants to contact the café for more information.

 

Hmmm, ice-cream and cake supporting social change; that can’t be bad!

Burundi - Aid and Bicycles

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Annemarie:

In mid December we climbed from the shores of Lake Tanganyika through the steep forested hills and rift valley landscape to the border with Burundi and within a short stretch of road it was obvious we were in a very different country, although it was difficult to define why.

According to the BBC, Burundi is said to be one of the world's poorest nations, struggling to emerge from a 12-year, ethnic-based civil war between the usually dominant Tutsi minority and the Hutu majority. Intervention, mediation and aid have played a large part in supporting a ceasefire and the first parliamentary elections for some time happened as recently as 2005. A heavy UN presence worked with the elected government to disarm soldiers and former rebels and support the reconciliation process. Current UK Foreign Office advice warns against driving in the area north of the capital as unrest is predicted ahead of the 2015 elections but we were curious.

When you look for information on Burundi it’s a bit thin on the ground; Bradt don’t produce a guide book, Lonely Planet’s website didn’t have much information on a border crossing from Tanzania so we just followed our noses, up through Manyovu in Tanzania, crossing over in the mountains, then dropping back down to the lake to pursue a road north to the capital, Bujumbura. 

The bustle, business and slight indifference of Tanzania seemed a world away. Stares and waves and broad smiles greeted us in each hillside village; everyone seemed to be going somewhere on a bike, usually heavily laden with everything from bananas to bricks to massive sacks of grain or huge stacks of charcoal. Then, as we reached Lake Tanganyika again the villages were now dominated by the drying racks, boats and nets of the fishing communities lining the shore. Light was fading and people were out on the road, chatting, trading and watching us.  But as we moved further north the more incongruous sight were massive signs at the entrance to each village declaring what aid project was being delivered locally. A huge variety of countries were represented and many different aid organisations, plus of course the omnipresent UN. It felt like a long running advert for all the wealthy countries in the world wanting to show they are doing the right thing.

After a night by the lake we climbed out of Bujumbura the next day along winding, vertiginous roads, accompanied by more bikes. And not only accompanied, at one point we glanced behind us to find two riders had grabbed the ladder on the back of the Land Rover to get a lift to the top. As we passed other lorries on the route we saw they too each had a shoal of cyclists grasping firmly to their tailgates. It was scary stuff but even more remarkably, many were riding sidesaddle and only swiftly changed back to cycling astride their bikes when they were preparing to leave their hosts. We were reminded of sharks and their pilot fish: in exchange for safe passage up the hill the cyclists helped out, tucking in tarpaulins, adjusting any loose straps on their lorries. Our guy kept waving and grinning at me in the wing mirror until leaving us near the summit. We felt a little sad as we whizzed on to the Rwandan border, our load lighter but our cheery companion gone.

Looking up details of Burundi on the BBC’s Africa site it was all very serious stuff and included a recent story of a further army v rebel battle in the north of the country but the picture at the foot of the page? A man on his banana-laden bike!

Mr Govolambingo I presume ...

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Martin:

A few miles down the coast from Kigoma is the town of Ujiji. Once the centre of the slave trade it's also the place where Stanley met Livingstone in 1871 and came up with the immortal phrase "Dr.Livingstone I presume". The  location of their meeting is now a small museum and memorial.

The museum is run by the remarkable Mr Govolambingo - a Livingstone enthusiast totally dedicated to keeping the memorial going despite limited funds. When we arrived he was keen to let us know that Michael Palin had filmed here some years before. When he discovered we were a fellow and member of the RGS he was totally delighted and took us on a tour of the grounds. The original mango tree under which the pair met has long gone but, Mr Govolambingo told us, the modern trees around the memorial were grafted from the original. Under the shade of the trees he then recited a comprehensive history of the day Livingstone and Stanley met.

The museum itself holds a few interesting artefacts and some rather unusual papier maiche sculptors of the meeting!

Mr Govolambingo doesn't use the internet but he was very keen for us to help him out with some links to other institutions that hold Livingstone records around the world. We pointed him towards a few including the RGS - expect a handwritten letter from the custodian of Ujiji sometime soon!

Our host's one request as we left was for a pen - perhaps from the UK. I have never seen anyone more delighted than Mr Govolambingo when Annemarie pulled out from her bag a complimentary pen from the Royal Livingstone Hotel. "This is a most happy day for me" he said.

Mr Govolambingo we are very please to have met you - you made our day too.

Going Ape

Martin:

It was a long and dusty drive up from Katavi National Park back to the shores of Lake Tanganyika. The roads here are being controversially "improved" by Chinese investment. A huge undertaking, although quite what the Chinese will want in return is open to question. Mineral rights anyone? In the meantime though the constant diversions along rough tracks make the drive slow going. But the end goal makes the hassle of a days drive so worth it.

Kigoma is in the far north west of Tanzania and for us it was also the gateway into Gombe Stream National Park. The research centre at Gombe, founded by Jane Goodall, is effectively a living laboratory, home to the world's most studied group of chimpanzees. It was here that Goodall first discovered that chimpanzees are capable of fashioning and using tools - something it had long been thought of that only "man the toolmaker" was capable of. While watching the chimpanzees she observed them stripping leaves from twigs and sticking them into termite mounds - effectively "fishing" for termites.

For us the journey to visit the chimpanzees started with a two hour boat trip along the lake shore to the park entrance - it's inaccessible by road. With our guide we then began the steep climb up the slopes into the forest. By the time we reached the top the rain had started - but just as it cleared we came across a family of chimps feeding on fruits in the trees slightly below us. We were able to approach very close. The chimps, clearly unphased in any way by our presence, just carried on with their daily lives. The light after the rain and water still dripping from them enabled me to take some great pictures.

Before long the family moved on and we followed. In all we spent several hours tracking them through the forest as they moved from location to location in search of different fruits and leaves. A truly remarkable insight into their lives.