PLANET OF THE APES
Rwanda’s gorillas are on the up and it’s easier than ever to visit these awesome apes
DECIDING on a name for a child is not easy. But what’s it like coming up with monikers for 14 baby mountain gorillas? That’s one of the challenges of Kwita Izina — a jubilant naming ceremony held every September on the border of Rwanda’s Volcanoes national Park, where these loveable but endangered apes reside in a highly-protected rainforest paradise.
Their survival is a remarkable conservation success story.
Fifty years ago, American primatologist Dian Fossey came here to study our closest relatives in the animal kingdom after chimpanzees (her turbulent life story was celebrated in the 1988 film Gorillas In The Mist).
Back then, poaching in Rwanda had cut their number to just 240. But today, there are more than 800 gorillas flourishing here and in neighbouring forests in Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
It’s a cause for great celebration in this small, safe and go-ahead nation in the heart of Africa, now easily reached via direct flights from London, which launched last May.
While I’m there, some 30,000 Rwandans turn up for Kwita Izina. Tourists are always welcome to join the party, which includes spirited performances from dancers wearing lion mane headdresses.
On a stage framed with a 50ft high bamboo replica of a gorilla, a parade of conservationists, business leaders, supermodels and philanthropists read out the names bestowed on the muchprized infant gorillas, aged from six to 17 months.
The first years of their life are crucial — only a third make it to the age of three. Some are given upbeat Rwandan names which translate as Ornament and Unique, although over the years oddities such as Umbrella and Arts and Crafts have crept in.
Among this year’s gang is an 11-month-old boy, Inyange, who belongs to the Susa Group that Fossey originally studied. It’s one of the most difficult families to reach, living on the steep, muddy flanks of the Karisimbi volcano, but I’m keen to see this newly-christened bundle of fur.
Gorilla-viewing is a highly orchestrated business, with only 96 permits issued per day at a cost of $1,500 (£1,110) each. Trekkers set off in groups of eight, plus porters, an armed guard and an expert guide. Contact is limited to 60 minutes, and before approaching we’re taught to make friendly noises and adopt the ‘submission’ position if things take a wrong turn.
AFTER an 80-minute drive from the park headquarters in Kinigi, we tramp past intensely cultivated fields to the start of our climb. It’s a hot and arduous ascent (not for nothing are they called mountain gorillas), and I wish I’d heeded advice to wear gardening gloves to counter the vicious stinging nettles.
Up ahead, trackers — who spend all day protecting and monitoring each group — have already located Kurira, the 35year-old dominant silverback, and his 16-strong entourage.
We’re in luck; they’ve eaten breakfast and are now lolling around contentedly on a forest path, chewing bits of branch and grooming each other.
Trekkers are supposed to keep at least 23 ft away — not just for safety, but to avoid passing on illnesses. But that’s hard to do in thick rainforest and we’re soon right alongside them.
I spot Inyange, playing mischievously while his mother, Ingufu, takes a nap. It’s amusing to watch him trying out toddler manoeuvres in his jungle gym, swinging on bamboo parallel bars, falling when one breaks.
He sneaks so close to us that my heart misses a beat when I look into his tiny, coppercoloured eyes. One meaning of Inyange’s new name is ‘bright’, which seems apt for this shining example of how Rwandans are ensuring that these magnificent creatures don’t die out.
He’s a lucky boy, but I feel even more fortunate to have spent a golden hour with his family in the wild. A visit to the relatives can be a chore, but when they happen to be Rwanda’s gorillas, it’s pure delight.