The Heart of Darkness: Chimp Trekking in Kibale Forest

The morning began at 5:45 am. One of the staff at the Ndali Lodge, our current place of residence, woke us with coffee and after a quick breakfast, the group began our drive to the Kibale Forest at around 6:30. After about an hour long drive that featured one spectacular view of a Ugandan sunrise we arrived at the Kibale headquarters. Five people (my father, myself, and a family of three that is traveling with us) piled in a land cruiser and drove off into the forest.

I didn't wear a watch or have any sort of timepiece on my person and my sense of time, or lack thereof, was entirely displaced. I'll do my best. we drove for what seemed like ten minutes into the jungle, parked the car, and exited with our gear.

Our ranger guide, Jofar, began briefing us on the chimpanzees. We knew going into this excursion that there was no guarantee that we would even see a single primate; after all, nature doesn't exactly keep a timely schedule. Jofar looked to be in his twenties and was a rather diminutive person. He was about 5'8", very thin, and had an oddly small head. Despite his mousy body, Jofar still looked impressive. I think that was probably due to the AK-47 assault rifle slung over his back. If you are unfamiliar with an AK-47, it is the gun Hollywood has convinced us is the Russian terrorist's weapon of choice universally recognized by its banana clip.

"These primates are habituated; there are about 120 habituated chimps out of 1200 in Kibale Forest," began Jofar. "I don't know how long we are going to have to trek before we see them, but if we do find them remember that while they are habituated, we still need to give them space and..." Jofar suddenly looked puzzled as five rich white people started pointing, smiling, and grabbing their cameras. Jofar turned and quickly mimicked our response.

Two chimpanzees, not thirty seconds into the briefing, generously decided to walk across the path and into the jungle to our left.

"Follow me!" Jofar darted off the path and guided us straight into the jungle. Now, if you know me you may also know that I don't follow directions particularly well and I always have to be in front when exploring. Naturally, I boxed out everyone else and followed Jofar's every step as we left the lit jungle path and disappeared into the dark, lush flora of the Ugandan jungle.

I had slept approximately 4 legitimate hours since leaving on Monday. Jet lag confused my internal clock as to when the hell I was supposed to be sleeping and my dad's snoring reminds me of when I shot an M-16 machine gun at college. [The M-16 is the cooler, more reliable cousin of the AK-47.] At this early hour I should have been completely exhausted. Conversely, I was completely alert as I somehow managed to traverse a jungle floor covered with vines, roots, and small plants without taking my eyes off of the two chimps. Finally, the chimps came to a halt near a fallen log. We stood about twelve feet from them and watched.

"The big one is named Tabu," Jofar knowingly instructed. "We call him that because his left hand was caught in a snare and now it is lame." It was noticeable; poor Tabu sat with his left hand bent awkwardly on the jungle floor. "All chimp families have an alpha male. His the strongest and has to win many fights. The chimps all have levels, from top to bottom. Tabu is the fifth chimp from Mobutu, the head of the family. [Mobutu was a dictator of Zaire/Congo.] Tabu is about 45 kilograms and 37 years old. [Chimps can live to 55; Mobutu is 43.]" A smaller chimp played behind Tabu, but this six year old was nameless. "We don't name them until they are 10, because we don't know their habits yet." All of the chimps have names that mean something regarding their personality.

If you have ever read Conrad's The Heart of Darkness, well, kudos. Pre-1900 literature is tough to get through. While the novel is ultimately about the potentially savage nature of man, the undertones of excitement and mystery of being human in the wild jungle became very apparent as I watched Tabu. We were not at a zoo. This wasn't Disney' recreation of the Serengeti in Florida. This was it, the darkness that Conrad spoke of over a hundred years ago. Man did not control this realm; this was Mother Nature's domain. We were the intruders, the nonnative species, the foreigners in Tabu's land. This moment was precisely why Dad and I traveled thousands of miles.

The light was terrible due in equal part to the time of day and the dense foliage above. Even though we stood so close to Tabu and his little friend, we were unable to get any great photos. We watched Tabu for a while, but I quickly grew anxious. I could hear the shrieking bark of other chimpanzees, undoubtedly informing their family that humans were around. I wanted to see more and wandered away from the group in search of the elusive chimps I could hear. My complete inability to stay in one place comes directly from my mother. Don't blame me.

In the jungle, sight becomes your third most reliable sense behind hearing and, believe it or not, intuition. It was dark enough that making out the tar black chimpanzees was nearly impossible unless you knew exactly where to look (or if the chimps were kind enough to park it right in the middle of a clearing. Thanks, Tabu). You have to hear the rustling branches and the falling fig pits to put yourself in a position to wonder if I was a chimp in the jungle, where would I be?. I trusted my ears and my gut instincts and quickly found one chimp in a tree and another running across the ground. Bending over to get a better view, I felt a stinging pain in my left calf, then a similar pain on my right thigh.

Safari ants. Damnit, Alex! I most likely should have been paying attention when the guides told us to tuck our pants into our socks. Safari ants have big mean pincers on their heads that locals actually use in place of sutures to close wounds. So yeah, they hurt a bit. I slapped at the little devils and tucked my pants in. Ouch! Another little stinging pain in my leg! Touche, Mr. Enterprising Ant. I slapped at him and, figuring he was dead, moved back to the group.

Tabu decided he was no longer interested in staying put for us tourists and suddenly ran off. We followed quickly, but Tabu knew the jungle better than us weird upright walkers. We tried to keep up, but that resulted in Dad (and camera equipment worth more than I am) faceplanting onto the jungle floor. he was fine, but had fallen because in our effort to keep pace with #5 there was no time to close the monopod. It ain't easy moving through the heart of darkness with seven feet of camera equipment. We learned our lesson. [Editor's Note, as I am rewriting this three days later now that I have internet access: I know the "heart of darkness" is generally a reference to the figurative meaning of the phrase. We are speaking more literally here.]

We turned around and headed off in the opposite direction. Jofar guided us back across the jeep path to one enormous tree that surely seemed thicker and taller than the rest. The man knew his stuff: in the tree were at least 10 huge chimpanzees swinging, sitting, eating figs (60% of their diet) and generally monkeying around. Because at this stage in our lives I am more nimble than my father, I took the camera and wandered around the massive tree's perimeter, silently begging the chimps to position themselves for a better shot.

I've previously lamented my complete inability to take a photograph of any reasonable quality on this blog and that problem followed me into the jungle. It probably didn't matter. A professional couldn't have taken anything better that what I shot. The combined forces of bad sunlight, an infinite number of tree branches, our foot long SLR lens that lacked any natural stability, and primates apathetic to our goals prevented any great pictures.

All of the sudden the jig was up; the chimp erupted into their piercing wail and abandoned tree. I guess they were done being the objects of our interest and wanted to go monkey around elsewhere. We watched them glide through the forest and elegantly descend up to fifty feet from the branches to the ground and said our goodbyes to the Kibale chimps. Keeping pace with those creatures is something I will always remember and I simply can't wait to do this again with gorillas.

ACB