It is barely Thursday, but I have already had enough of human beings this week. To escape, I pulled out a story I wrote several years ago but never did anything with. The tale, written for children, involves the real-life Nkuringo family of mountain gorillas living in Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable Forest.
When I wrote this story, the Nkuringos were still in the process of being habituated for tourism and they epitomized not only the species’ struggle for survival but also the tug-of-war between man and beast around the planet. Over a two decade span, a human population explosion in the Bwindi region had brought subsistence farming, primarily of beans and bananas, to the literal edge of the gorillas’ backyard. As a result, instead of humans encroaching on the gorillas’ territory, the situation had been reversed and the Nkuringo’s crop raiding forays were creating headaches for conservationists and farmers alike.
It is easy enough to understand why subsistence farmers wouldn’t be too fond of seeing their crops destroyed. Beyond that, however, the forays were exposing the gorillas to human diseases they were susceptible to but had no immunity against. A common cold outbreak in the human population stood a good chance of wiping out the entire 18-member Nkuringo family. And with just 650 mountain gorillas left in the world at that time, this was a huge problem.
An interesting thing about mountain gorillas is that they despise wide open spaces. Given the choice of walking miles around one or crossing yards through, they will choose the former. This is why buying the land and ripping out the crops to create an open boundary zone was important. Maintaining the zone would also provide steady, reliable, ongoing work for the closest villages.
Twelve years since I was a part of raising funds to buy the farmland, the Nkuringos are still going strong. I got to know them during the habituation process required for tourism, before the public at large had an opportunity to meet them. At the time, they were just the third Ugandan mountain gorilla family to have gone through habituation. Now, 11 families are open for visitation. And now, instead of just 650 mountain gorillas left in the world, there are close to 900. Community-involved conservation works.
But I have rambled on enough. Below is the silly tale (with pictures!) I came up with a decade ago. If, like me, you are sick of humans, I hope it provides a brief escape. If you don't like it, please be kind. It was an experiment with a kind of writing I had never tried before and have never tried since.
(p.s. I never bothered to get this little tale illustrated so am including a few adult version photos. While I have some beautiful shots of my own, I didn't take what I am including here. H/t to my good friend who did. They are stunning. And, yes, he is a professional photographer.)
NKURINGO!
(A True Story)
High on a hill, in a land far away,
the Nkuringos are playing as they do every day.
There’s Safari, Faheta, Wageni and more.
And sweet little Christmas, who is only just four.
Their home is a forest with trees tall as towers.
Christmas rolls round, lollygagging in flowers.
She loves to climb up and build nests in the sky.
And she loves when friend Silver stops by to say ‘Hi’.
Silver’s a Ranger who visits with cheer.
He beats on his chest to sound when he’s near.
He grunts deep and throaty and the gorillas do too.
They then talk together, saying ‘hi!’ and ‘what’s new?’
The Nkuringos are happy with their life in the wild.
And Christmas, for sure, is a most helpful child.
She scurries about knocking fruit from the trees.
Which the big boys all munch when it falls on their knees.
But Silver is worried because all is not well.
New neighbors have come, planting food for to sell.
There are beans and potatoes - but they’re not so bad.
The bananas, however, drive Nkuringos quite mad.
The gorillas don’t know. They just can’t comprehend.
The bananas they love? Not meant for them.
They belong to the people who need them to eat.
But Nkuringos keep coming. Enticed by sweet treat.
They walk out of their forest and onto the farms.
Not a banana left standing thanks to very strong arms.
But the real problem’s bigger and much harder to see.
It’s that gorillas catch colds. Just like you and like me.
They get them from people who don’t wash their hands.
And it means that Nkuringos need people-free lands.
If Christmas gets sick, she feels really quite bad.
And when Silver sees that? He is ever so sad.
He calls in a doctor to give her a shot.
Do you think Christmas likes it?
NO WAY! She does not!
But she knows Silver loves her and, in truth, so do I.
This good little girl with her nest in the sky.
She’s soon feeling better and has something to say:
“Oop-ee. Ah ep ap? Ooh ap up eh ay?”
(“Hello. How are you? Do you want to come play?”)