After we saw the mountain gorillas in Uganda, there really wasn’t anything to look forward to anymore, other than getting home. The focal point of our trip was done. Multiple long haul flights were still ahead of us, and we were a long way from home. Our suitcases were about to give David Copperfield a run for his money, and we had to deal with the unpredictability of flights, weather, and a lack of Wi-Fi. But even before all these things occurred, it was a bit of a struggle.
Despite the trip beginning with a nice plush Polaris business class seat and a relatively relaxing sojourn in England, our East African adventure was just that … an adventure. In addition to needing to wake up early nearly every day we were there, there was always a distinct lack of communication between our guides and us. Despite having booked either day trips or specific itineraries ahead of time, there was always an element of mystery around all the details. Where are we going? How long will we be there? How long is this hike? More often than not, we were literally along for the ride without any prior information. It is difficult to explain all the scenarios in which this occurred, but it was constant.
One might give that a cursory thought and say, “Well, that’s just AFRICA.” Yet, it isn’t. I’ve been to Africa on numerous occasions, and I usually felt a calm wash over me during my stay. I’m not the only one who feels this way. None other than Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex would routinely travel down to Africa — mostly Botswana to recharge, reset, and get away from it all. The people have generally been warm and sometimes even too attentive. The unfortunate result of our experiences on this particular trip to East Africa is that people came off a bit rude even if that may not have been their intent. Whilst riding in the safari jeep in Uganda, we attracted a good deal of attention. Children would wave and smile with enthusiasm. The preferred greeting for the adults, however, seemed to be an icy stare. Again, I’m not even sure if it was hostile or curious or perhaps none of those things, but it made us a bit uncomfortable either way. The reality is we are “rich” foreigners riding around in a massive safari jeep through villages where an annual salary is not likely to be much more than $800, or the cost of ONE gorilla trekking permit. The disparities between our lives and theirs was not lost. It would have been impossible to miss.
But enough of all that, we need to remember the wild and crazy purpose of our trip to begin with. We structured our entire voyage around our gorilla permits. This meant first “killing time” in Kenya. Having done numerous game drives or safaris in the past, I was looking for something unique in Kenya and found it in the cycling safari at Hell’s Gate. While not without its own share of confusion, we had a more intimate safari experience — no large metal safari vehicle separated us from the wilds of Africa, just the illusion of what some may have at one point called a bicycle.
As for the actual gorilla trek, it still seems surreal. And while we have seen some crazy things throughout the years including being face to face with lions in Tanzania, having actual feet on the ground instead of in a vehicle changes everything. It was exhilarating, but also scary. Sharing the same space as these large and intelligent creatures was an experience that still doesn’t seem real. How is it possible that I was walking amongst mountain gorillas? It simply seems too crazy to be real.
During that gorilla trek, one of the trackers who sees the gorillas frequently was given a rather aggressive shove by one of the silverbacks. It illustrated a point that truly summarizes this adventure. I’m not sure I have ever felt more like an outsider on a trip. While the gorilla trekking experience is somehow tourism-friendly, we were clearly the outsiders. Despite walking into their habitat with our fancy cameras and celebrity swagger, the gorillas made it clear that they are allowing us to be there on their terms.
There is a Bantu or Swahili word “Mzungu” meaning “foreigner” or simply “white person.” We heard it a lot from the mouths of Ugandan children. I don’t love being thought of as the outsider, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is true. This trip proved time and time again that we should not expect to be welcomed with open arms and hoisted up on chairs like Prince William on a royal tour. Perhaps too often, we think that the world should cater to us, when we should be exercising humility in being allowed to share the same environment. And as we recover from this latest adventure, I think to myself . . . Hawai’i has never sounded more chill. We may still be “mzungus” or “haoles” over there, but at least we won’t be judged by what we eat or don’t eat. Aloha for now.
passports & pepto bismol 