Many places are worth a visit ,but only one of them is called Uganda. In Uganda, many places
are worth an excursion, but only a few are to die for. I’ve been to several national parks and seen
many animals. I’ve even been to the great Murchison Falls .But just when I thought I’d seen it all,
I went to a forest that’s like no other.This forest holds the world’s largest number of gorillas.
This is the eminent Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Nothing will ever beat this. If you don’t believe
me, come with me and discover The Lullabies of Rushaga.
First of all, I have always wondered why it is called the”impenetrable” forest of Bwindi. Mankind
has penetrated it for so long, which is why there is apple of luxurious Safari Lodges nestled
on the outskirts, some of them tucked away quite deep into this dense jungle. The
indigenous people of this jungle, the Batwa, are a marginalized community that has been
disenfranchised for centuries. I don’t know exactly who is to blame, but it seems somewhat, it is
their culture that has proven”impenetrable” over time.
Away from that, the Bwindi forest is an awe-inspiring jungle, so dense with trees that it looks
impregnable at first sight. Speaking of sights, it evokes love, at first sight, the kind that grips you
so tight, especially at night. Everything about it was built to amaze, everything: from the residents
building delicate roadblocks across narrow paths to the majestic silverbacks standing tall,
everything there fascinates with intricate detail. Even the cold warms your heart, as you shiver
and quiver with adventure thrill, laced with a smidgen of fear.
This place is so lush, it’s almost
So annoying. I can’t help but wonder how so much beauty could have been so neatly placed in
just one place. It’s almost unfair. My experience kept getting better by the hour, hitting an
orgasmic climax at the sight of two colossal gorillas, one of them a silverback. The other
looked younger,with nosil verys heen on its back. Itwasmale, evidently, and wascalled by
some name,apparently named by some tourist .I’d seen a picture of the tourist, clad in khaki
shorts.This gorilla stood up, facing the silverback, and guess what ha opened next: Nothing.
Just when we expected anepic show down, the creatures just went about their business,
chewing on many a branch for brunch. It’salmostliketheyplannedtodisappoint.A few more
hours into the jungle, and the clouds gathered. Alight drizzle sent us straight to our lodges,
located in a place called Rushaga. It was 4pm, and was exhausted.
When we got there, I was treated to a warm shower,and after a hearty meal, I took a long nap.
Aboutthreehourslater,I a woke to the sound of soft music, and the sight of candle-lit corridors
scented with cinnamon.It was twilight, and the sun was fed up, leaving us with an after glow of
red golden hues, spread across the vastsky.The cold was setting in. It wasn’t your usual type of
chill.It was the type that took to your bone and murrow.I could hardly feel my skin.This frigidity
brought tus all together at a bonfire. Then came the sharing of our favorite experiences with
nature.Then came my turn to speak.
My most cherished moment had come the day before, when we’d just arrived at Rushaga. I saw
a bird, and I’m sure the bird saw me too. I think Is credits little, because it flew away. And
when it did,it looked like a flying rainbow. I had never seen such a bird before, and I haven’tseen
since .It was that type of bird that glow edmoreradiant than the flowers on which it fed. It was
such a spectacle to be hold.I wish I had a camera to take it allin.Nevertravelwithoutacamera!
Now all I have is a memory I can only share with words, a sight I can only share with myself. I
wasn’t starving perse, but the aroma that filled the room was so inviting. Dinner was served. I
can’t recall the exotic name soft those delicacies, because, after all,theyweremeantformy
in satiablebelly, not mind.
Besides,it’s the my stery that add to their appeal,because on such a
the trip,who want to eat what they know? What I’ve failed to fathom is why the tea that’sgrown
here is called”British”tea and why some to her kind, still grown here,is called”African” tea. I
mean,what else would it be, having been cultivated in the soil so four continent? But who wants
to know there rigorous details of colonialism over a cooling cup of tea, served in a mount so that
be fit holy communion? Besides, after a few glasses off in e wine,I headed straight orbed,
stashingmy whole self between the sheets.
The Lullabies of Rushaga
Just before I drifted off, a rushing gust of wind forced it to sway across the room, covering
it with goosebumps. Straightening my feet and toes with a tingling sensation, I pulled my knees
close to my chest,aposture I held for about a minute,reminiscentofourfirstninemonthsof
The warm relished in mother nature’s womb. I could hear the sound of trees and their canopies
swaying in the wind with a drunken flare.
Dry twigs of wood were falling onto the roof, and then
came the gigantic thud of thunder, the type that makes you repent. Then poured the long-awaited rains. At long last, with my eyes closed, my ears fed. What the Lullabies of Rushaga! Such sweet lullabies!
The lullabies of Rushaga.
Nostalgia.One last
lookatthese
heaven on earth. I
could almost touch
theraysoflightas
they kissed my
skin.O the fog
steaming
