African monkey trail – by Kate Humble
January 1, 2008
African monkey trail – by Kate Humble
The pilot turned and shouted above the noise of the engine. “If those animals start to cross the runway, we’ll need to abort the landing.” My husband Ludo and I could only agree – “the animals” were bigger than our tiny plane. This was our introduction to Ruaha, a little-known national park in southern Tanzania. Those who know it rave, not just about the beauty of its landscapes but about the variety and sheer number of animals that live in and wander through this pristine, unfenced wilderness.
We landed on the mud air-strip, coasting past the herd of feeding elephants. Ruaha, normally bone dry, had received its annual rainfall in just a month, and was lush and verdant. The drive to camp turned into a game drive. Male kudu with corkscrew horns and masked faces peered out at us. A herd of buffalo snorted and stamped. A lone lioness, the remains of a young giraffe beside her, rolled and stretched blissfully in the grass.
Mdonya Old River Camp is just that. Camouflage green tents are set along the banks of what was once the Mdonya River, and a larger tent serves as a dining room. The whole lot could be dismantled in 24 hours, leaving few signs it ever existed. The manager, Nick, showed us to our tent and warned: “Don’t leave anything outside after dark; we’re having a bit of a problem with a hyena. She’ll eat anything. Last night she had a go at one of the kerosene lanterns.” And that really is the beauty of this camp. It doesn’t shut out the wildlife – quite the opposite. A month before, a pride of lions killed a buffalo outside one of the tents. “We didn’t have any guests in that tent at the time,” Nick said. “We just put people in the tents farthest away and left the lions to it. They stayed around for a few days. The guests loved it.”
The rain had brought new life to the bush – newborn impala, baby giraffe and tiny vervet monkeys clinging to their mothers. But it also meant that, with food and water everywhere, the game had dispersed. We were at the mercy of chance and every sighting was a treat. Travelling was challenging: vehicles became stuck in treacly mud, and airstrips became unusable. We flew out of Ruaha, dodging rainclouds, heading west. From the window we saw hills become mountains, the bush become forest and then the grey expanse of Lake Tanganyika, the size of England, separating Tanzania from the Congo.
Western Tanzania is largely inaccessible. Gombe is its best-known reserve. Jane Goodall lived there from the early 1960s, studying and making astonishing discoveries about our closest relatives, chimpanzees. Gombe doesn’t really have facilities for visitors, but 200km (125 miles) south is the larger Mahale National Park, home to several groups of chimps. Kyoto University has had researchers there for more than 40 years. Visitors to Mahale’s few tourist camps have a good, although not guaranteed, chance of seeing chimpanzees in their natural habitat, going about their daily business unconcerned by a human audience. I had only seen chimpanzees in captivity. They are big, powerful, extremely intelligent, human enough to make you think you might understand them, animal enough to make them inscrutable. I was drawn to them as much by fear as by curiosity. But before Ludo and I and John and Diana, two Americans also staying at Greystoke Camp, could venture into their territory, we had to pass a test.
Last summer catastrophe struck the chimps of Mahale.
They started dying in alarming numbers of a flu-like disease. Magdalena, a vet who worked at Gombe for years and now runs Greystoke Camp, was part of the team trying to establish where the disease had originated. There was suspicion that the “flu” had been caught from humans, and strict precautions had been established to prevent any recurrence. Researchers and tourists have to stay at least 10m (33ft) from the chimps, and wear masks. Any hint of a cold and you are not allowed in the forest.
Once the aircraft landed on the shores of the lake, we boarded a boat and sailed south. After about an hour we saw a beach, empty apart from an eccentric-looking thatched building, and a small knot of people – our welcoming party. The rest of the camp was hidden beyond the tree line. Behind the beach, the forest: dark, daunting and for the moment off limits.
We spent the afternoon on the lake with Greystoke’s guide, Safe. Ostensibly there to point out crocodiles, hippos and hundreds of bird species, he was also carefully monitoring us: any sign of a cold and we would not be seeing any chimps. Blissfully unaware of this, we were celebrating the sheer joy of being in such a place with a large gin and tonic, all talking at once, so we barely heard Safe’s shout. “Chimp!” he repeated, pointing towards the bank. Disbelievingly, we turned – and there was a black face peering, a little indignantly at us, from a tree. “It’s a wild one, not one from the habituated group,” Safe said. “You’re very lucky. Hardly anyone sees them.” Silent now, we looked from the chimp to each other and back again, hardly daring to believe what we were seeing. Tears brimmed in Diana’s eyes.
Imagine then how we felt the next morning, when, having been given a clean bill of health, we found ourselves 10m from Alofu, the alpha male, lying on his back, arms flung wide, snoozing with a couple of younger males. Pushing through the undergrowth, we came across another little group, a female catching a nap while her baby was entertained by another young chimp.
On our final morning we abandoned breakfast. The trackers had spotted the chimps obligingly close by. We hadn’t seen them the previous day, despite six exhausting, exhilarating hours tracking through the forest. Now we stood, staring upwards as the canopy shook. Leaping bodies crashing through the branches, hooting calls filled the air and made our hair stand on end. As we climbed reluctantly back on the boat to leave, we were joined by one of the camp’s staff wearing a T-shirt with the slogan “98 per cent chimpanzee”: DNA, we agreed, we could all be proud of.
Kate Humble presents Springwatch on BBC Two. Her website www.stuffyourrucksack.com offers information on what to take on holiday to help local communities.
Reproduced from the The Times June 16, 2007
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