So it had been soon after breakfast on the day after his arrival in Bukavu that Mathew, armed with his professor’s letter of introduction, had with the enthusiasm of a young man-about-town about to meet a debutante on a first date, taken a taxi to the National Park’s headquarters.
‘Oh! So pleased to meet you – do come in,’ said the strikingly attractive girl who answered the door of the small whitewashed bungalow. ‘My name is Lucienne Luzembo. I’m afraid the Conservateur, Adrien Deschryver, will be away from Bukavu for the next four days – his plane has developed some mechanical problems that need to be fixed in Nairobi. He’s very sorry not to be here but I can tell you more about our work. Can I get you a cup of coffee?’
‘I must say that would be very welcome, yes please,’ replied Mathew, disappointed that he would not be meeting Adrien Deschryver that morning but eagerly looking forward to making Lucienne’s aquaintance.
‘I came to Bukavu from Lubumbashi with a Belgian-based television crew,’ explained Lucienne over a cup of locally-grown Kivu coffee. ‘We were filming Adrien with his habituated group of eastern lowland gorillas in Kahuzi-Biega. I was the crew’s translator.’
‘That sounds interesting . . . What led you into that line of work?’ asked Mathew, keen to find out everything he could about Lucienne. ‘Well, I majored in French and English at the University of Congo in Lubumbashi and also speak Bemba, the local tribal language, so when the film company approached the university to ask if they could suggest anyone to translate, they put my name forward. It was luck, really, as these things often are. But as we were filming, I realised that what I was really interested in was the gorillas – I wanted to learn about their environment, their conservation, everything about them. I suppose because Adrien could see how much it meant to me, how much I shared his enthusiasm for the future welfare of the gorillas, he offered me a job here as his office manager, with scope to act as a translator in the future for tourists. So here I am!’
Mathew was quick to observe that Lucienne possessed the self-assured poise and body of a model and whenever she spoke in her French-accented English about the park’s gorillas, her dark brown eyes flashed with excitement. Her profile was further enhanced by the attractiveness of the dimples in her cheeks and the twitching of her button-sized nose, which all blended perfectly with the smoothness of her caramel-coloured complexion. However, although Mathew was quick to recognise that Lucienne’s appearance would be sure to set any male pulse racing, he knew only too well that in this particular situation his priority was to retain his usual degree of British formality and decorum.
Keen to carry on the conversation, Mathew delved further into Lucienne’s background. ‘Was Lubumbashi your home-town?’
‘I was born in Katanga, twelve years before the Congo’s independence from Belgium in 1960. My parents chose to privately educate me at the Mission de Sacré Coeur at Ankoro, a small town on the Lualaba River to the north of Lubumbashi. My father was African, Dr Gaston Luzembo – my mother Karen was European. She was a nurse . . . they married while he was studying medicine in Antwerp. The difference in their cultures never seemed to bother them, they have always been very close.’
On the strength of the letter of introduction from Osman Hill, and Lucienne having recalled the correspondence with Mathew and the financial aid that had come from Emory University, she promised to make radio contact with Deschryver that same evening. ‘You must have the Conservateur’s permission for your first visit to the park, as he can’t be here himself. I should have his reply by tomorrow morning – why don’t you come back then? Let me give you a lift back to the hotel for now, it will be much quicker than a taxi.’ They jumped into the Park Department’s open mud-encrusted Brazilian-manufactured jeep and continued an animated conversation until Lucienne dropped Mathew at the doors of the Hotel Metropole.
From the literature that Lucienne had given Mathew about the history of the Kahuzi-Biega National Park, which included the background of Adrien Deschryver’s involvement with the conservation of its gorillas, he noted that it had been given its park status in 1970, only one year previously. Prior to this, since 1937, Mount Kahuzi had been classified as a Zoological and Forest Reserve and during the colonial days of the Belgian Congo, Deschryver’s family had owned extensive tea and coffee plantations on the twin mountains of Kahuzi and Biega. As Deschryver had been brought up in the region, he knew the mountainous environments extremely well and, when he had been old enough to carry a gun, he had hunted antelope, wild pig and even elephants in the surrounding forests. However, during the mid 1960s the area had suffered from serious depredations; many trees had been cut down on land cleared for cultivation and a great deal of hunting had taken place. What had made this particularly deplorable was that the eastern lowland gorillas had been among the chief victims.
It had been in 1965 when Deschryver had first reported that the gorillas were being hunted systematically by the Pygmies with the aid of dogs, nets and spears. He had also recorded how old silverback males had tried to defend their families but had been massacred with spears. Females that had taken flight became entangled in nets, while the sub-adults and juveniles that had climbed into the trees for safety became a fine target for the poachers’ poisoned arrows. Due to such an uncontrolled onslaught on this remnant population of the eastern lowland gorilla species, it was not long before almost all the young gorillas of Kahuzi had been exterminated, and the remaining adults had become fragmented, aggressive and uncharacteristically dangerous. It was as a result of such carnage that Deschryver had made it his personal crusade to do as much as possible to preserve this isolated wild population, as well as to conserve the mountains’ important ecosystems on the south-west shores of Lake Kivu.
As ex-poachers frequently made the best gamekeepers, Deschryver first set about converting the Pygmies from poachers into guides. Once the national park had been established, some of the gorillas that he had managed to habituate began to realise that not all members of the human race represented danger and a number of paying visitors were permitted to see gorillas in the wild for the first time. Even more rewarding for Deschryver, it had not taken too long before nature had started to make amends and the population of gorillas had started to increase.
That evening, Mathew received a call from Lucienne. ‘I hope you’re not disappointed, Mathew – Adrien would like you to wait as he considers it essential to introduce you personally to his family of gorillas. Also, he would like to take you to the area that he considers would be best for your behavioural studies and to show you from the start the type of contact that he would happy for you to have.’
‘No, I’m not disappointed, Lucienne. That makes perfect sense. I’m happy to wait for Adrien – I would hate to offend him unintentionally.’
‘When I arrived in Bukavu with the Belgian television crew, Adrien was initially rather wary about our presence, he was worried about taking newcomers to Kahuzi-Biega and allowing them to interact with and film his precious gorillas. When you meet him for the first time, tread carefully . . . it’s a bit like being interviewed by a university entry board and being assessed thoroughly in the process. It might help if you show as much enthusiasm as you can about the science that could result from your behavioural studies and the financial benefits that could well result from future funding sources for the park. One more thing – it would be a good idea to tell Adrien how fortunate you consider yourself to be in having such a wonderful opportunity to study the endangered eastern lowland gorilla and that you recognise fully that this is only possible thanks to him – the Conservateur – having spent so much time in habituating them to the presence of human beings.’
‘That’s excellent advice; I shall do a little preparation before I meet him. I can quite understand why he’s so protective, I would be exactly the same, but rest assured I will abide by his guidance – I share his aims completely.’
‘As you have some free time, you could take the early morning vedette to Goma, on the far no
rthern tip of Lake Kivu. The Virunga volcanoes are nearby – they span the borders of Zaire, Rwanda and Uganda – and there you will find the fragmented montane forest habitats of the remnant populations of the endangered mountain gorilla, Gorilla g. beringei. You may be able to visit their habitat if you go to the tourist office in Goma to see whether a guide is available. Virunga Park call them their “Tourist family groups”, it could be worth a try.’
So it had been at 7.30 the following morning that Mathew had taken Lucienne’s advice and had climbed on board the overcrowded vedette. He had found himself to be the only European on the daily ferry to Goma. Lake Kivu’s eastern coastline represented Zaire’s international border with Rwanda and, during the boat’s six-hour voyage to the top of the lake, it chugged its way past and between numerous islands, the majority of which sadly had been shaved of their blankets of forest and provided little refuge for the lake’s wildlife. It was while taking some photographs of the attractive Rwandan landfall that Mathew was tapped on the shoulder by an aggressive-looking African who snatched the camera from his grip, gesticulating that in Zaire it was forbidden to take photographs of an international border. It was only after several minutes of Mathew’s protestations in his smattering of French, repeating that he was a research scientist at the ‘Parc National du Kahuzi-Biega – Sanctuaire des Gorilles’, that his camera was returned by the security official who was to address him as ‘comrade’, squeeze his hand, and to pat him forcibly on the back before returning to a bottle of beer that he had left nearby.
Prior to the boat docking at Goma, Mathew was afforded the dramatic view of the most westerly of the group of eight Virunga volcanoes, and could see the smoke issuing forth from the summit of one of the two still-active younger ones. If time had been on his side, and permits had allowed, Mathew would have loved to visit the Albert National Park, the history of which he had recently read about. How Carl Akeley, the famous naturalist and sculptor, had shot five gorillas at the Virunga volcanoes in 1921 for the American Museum of Natural History, and had subsequently become so impressed with his quarry and the mountains in which the gorillas lived that he urged the Belgian government to set aside a permanent sanctuary for the animals where they could exist in peace and be studied by scientists. The Albert National Park was established in April 1925, and in July 1929 was enlarged to include the whole chain of volcanoes, which undoubtedly represented a fitting tribute not only to Carl Akeley but also to King Albert of Belgium, after whom the park was named. However, it was not until the 1950s and 1960s that the two doyens of long-term field research, George Schaller and later Dian Fossey, arrived to study the mountain gorillas of the Virunga volcanoes.
Lucienne had advised Mathew to stay at the Hotel de Grand Lacs during his three days in Goma. Like so many other buildings in the region, it very much resembled a mere apology to its former glory – in some places a series of shrapnel scars could be seen on the walls. She had also suggested that during his time there he should go to the Nyiragongo lava lake, as it was a dramatic moonscape spectacle not to be missed. But Mathew had made it his priority to do everything possible to see the mountain gorillas, even if it meant having to visit them with a group of sightseers, so he walked to Goma’s small tourist office only to find its heavy green wooden window shutters firmly closed, and its front door securely locked and bolted.
At the nearby police station a burly and surly, suspicious-looking sergeant, who had a sizeable scar on his left cheek, meticulously studied Mathew’s passport and visa, at one stage even holding it up to the light as if looking for some evidence of forgery.
‘I’m sorry, Sir, but it is impossible to go into gorilla country without first crossing the Zaire/Rwandan border – and there are political problems at present. It could be dangerous for you, so I cannot grant you permission to do so. Also, if you were to go into Rwanda, you would not be allowed to reenter Zaire as your visa clearly states that you can only enter the country at Kinshasa or Lubumbashi.’
Mathew contemplated offering the policeman a $US 100 bribe to secure a visa to record an additional place of entry into the country, as well as a letter of ‘free passage’, and to receive the sergeant’s advice as to the safest way to travel without encountering any problems. But due to the policeman’s increased hostility, Mathew had the feeling that for some reason or other he didn’t care for Europeans and that he had therefore taken a dislike to him, preferring to be left alone in his office at the earliest opportunity. He decided it was best to thank the policeman for his time and beat a hasty retreat.
Back at the Hotel de Grand Lacs, Mathew described the encounter to the hotel’s Indian manager. ‘He was nothing short of hostile, to tell you the truth. I don’t know what I’d done to offend him but he just refused point blank to help in any way.’
‘Don’t take it personally. There was terrible fighting in this region during the upheavals ten years ago, at the time of the country’s independence from Belgium. A group of heavily armed European mercenaries arrived in Goma, shot dead some of the townspeople then caught and tied the policeman to a chair. As he wouldn’t help them find the men they were looking for, the mercenaries gave him a severe beating – you may have noticed the wound on his face.’
After their conversation, Mathew recalled how he had read similar accounts of beatings of African-Americans in some of the prisons in the Deep South. He could well understand the degree of racial animosity that he had just experienced at Goma’s police station.
So, with Mathew’s ambition to have at least a brief encounter with the mountain gorillas being so conclusively thwarted, he decided to return to Bukavu the following morning and to await Deschryver’s arrival from Nairobi. He would also see whether Lucienne would have time to accept an invitation to join him for Sunday lunch in order to try to gain her confidence, as well as to learn as much as possible about Adrien Decshryver and the eastern lowland gorillas of Kahuzi-Biega that he had done so much to protect.
* * *
Bistro Zanzibar was situated on the south-eastern shores of Lake Kivu. It offered a sizeable shaded veranda dining area that extended out over the water, supported by some irregular-looking wooden stilts. In this way, the bistro’s guests were able to benefit from the comfortable gentle breeze that came down the rift valley from the mountains to the north-east of the lake.
Mathew had arrived at his rendezvous with Lucienne a good fifteen minutes early. This was not only to select the best table, but also to follow his mother’s advice that whenever entertaining a lady guest to always be sure to arrive in good time to welcome her, and to position a chair at the table to provide her with the most commanding view of other diners and of the overall environment.
Lucienne’s arrival was heralded by a warm welcome from the bistro’s manager, and admiring glances from some of the other customers. She was wearing a colourful, loose-fitting blouse with a floral pattern, her hair tied back in a ponytail with a ribbon of the same material. Her pale sky-blue slacks and matching sandals completed the outfit, which perfectly suited her ebullient personality. ‘Mathew! How nice to see you again – you must tell me all about your trip . . . so sorry it didn’t go quite according to plan,’ said Lucienne as she approached the table. Mathew wanted to welcome her with a kiss on both cheeks, but decided to deflect such a spontaneous temptation by just formally shaking her hand. ‘There’s not much to tell!’ laughed Mathew as the waiter drew out Lucienne’s chair for her to take a seat. ‘Is this table all right for you? I thought it would give you a good view of the lake. Now, let’s order some wine . . . Sauvignon Blanc?’
To any onlooker observing this young couple during the course of the meal, enjoying a dish of freshly caught lake fish and with the wine having started to dilute their inhibitions, it would be fair to assume there was a degree of intimacy. One would suppose from the way they were speaking to one another that they were either close relatives nostalgically recalling past experiences, or perhaps even a couple on their first date, such was the apparent
degree of familiarity and the strength of like-minded thinking between them.
With the lunch over, which Mathew could not have been more pleased to have hosted, Lucienne drove along the lake’s picturesque shoreline, past small stands of the ubiquitous eucalyptus and clusters of the slender-shaped fishing boats, back to the Hotel Metropole. As Deschryver had now returned to Bukavu, he had asked Lucienne to arrange to pick Mathew up from his hotel at 6 a.m. the following morning and to collect him from his home on the slopes of Mount Kahuzi, so that they could all go on together to the national park. Once preparations had been made, and after a goodbye that felt rather awkward on Mathew’s part, Lucienne sped away in the Park Department’s open jeep with a flourish of farewell waves and the happiest of smiles.
2
Mount Kahuzi’s Kingdom of Gorillas
It had been just after 7 a.m. the following day that Deschryver had picked up the two Pygmy trackers by the entrance to the Kahuzi-Biega National Park. They joined Lucienne in the back of the four-wheel drive vehicle, while Mathew sat in the front passenger seat as they drove on for twenty minutes or so, until turning off onto a small track and parking under the shade of a sizeable stand of bamboos.
Lucienne seemed quiet in comparison to her high spirits during their lunch the day before but during the journey, Mathew was relieved that she was directing secretive smiles and glances towards him when the opportunity arose. Deschryver’s opinion was so important to Lucienne that she didn’t want him to think that anything – or anyone – was distracting her from their mission.
Someone Wishes to Speak to You Page 2
