Diplomatic World_69

a rare moment of joy. I ignored that every tourist in this region
wanted the same. It is my water pilgrimage to Uganda, the bird
paradise.
The next day, a young gorilla stumbled upon our excited party.
After a gruelling, hours-long trek through part of the Bwindi
Impenetrable Forest National Park, we stood again in wonder.
Half of the world’s remaining mountain gorillas live in this
Ugandan park. We had all seen it on tv and read about it in
magazines. The clichés are indeed correct: the forest is dark,
impenetrable, and extremely talkative, and the gorillas are gentle
giants. We, carriers of lethal viruses, were asked to keep some
distance and to never look them in the eyes. For them, we should
be a floating hallucination, not a nightmare. We were promised
that maybe a silverback would honour us with his presence, but
he never materialized.
We decided to return from the wild to the domesticated world
before dark hit us. On the way back to the jeep, only the shoebill
stork kept running through my mind. The gorilla is a mirror, the
Shoebill a guide. It is a bird of the past and the future. While the
gorilla, moving freely within the reserve’s boundaries, reflects our
limitations, the shoebill has a different kind of freedom. One that
allows him to fly into the future. As an excruciating pain in my
shoulders and knee chased me off the volcano’s slopes, I could
not help but wonder about something I had briefly heard before –
something about pygmies.
There is no light without darkness. No conservation without
destruction. It is undoubtedly true that ecotourism in Uganda
works wonders for the gorillas, but it also has a dark side. A
side our ranger failed to mention. Just before we went to Bwindi,
I had heard that decades ago, the original forest dwellers,
pygmies called Echuya Batwa, were driven out of the forests
to ‘protect’ the gorillas. Severely impoverished and discriminated
against, the number of these hunter-gatherers steadily
decreased. Their ancient, sustainable way of life had been
considered obstructive to the forest conservation. The Batwa
were forced to live outside of their millennial homes, and they
were utterly unprepared. While the world revels in the successful
conservation of mountain gorillas, the Batwa are heading for
extinction. The multi-million dollar gorilla tourism has cast them
into abject poverty and delivered them to the mercy of Christian
charity.
I wondered about this. About balance. About duality. About
survival. About human rights. About nature’s rights.
The natural wealth of Uganda contrasts sharply with the poverty
of its people. In Entebbe, we made plans to set up an integral
experiment with ViaVia Entebbe, one of the Joker Travel cafes.
After all, that is why we had travelled to Uganda. To discover, to
listen, to learn, to understand. To help and to be helped. To use
one of my giant Cosmogolem statues to let the minds of young
people discover and develop their own identity. To introduce sustainable
chickens on Open Farms. To empower women through
the cultivation of mushrooms. All of us present there decided to
combine our efforts. We were inspired by the power of gorillas
and the perspective of a shoebill stork. Collectively we believe
in the future of hope. For the birds, the mammals, and all human
animals, also the Batwa.
Photos: Rudi Veestraeten, Amos Ategeka & Koen Vanmechelen
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