Unfortunately no photos.

Bwindi & the Batwa (Pygmy) People
Well my last game drive provided another sighting of the Ishasha lions, but they were on the ground again and not in a tree. I was able to get a few good shots of them…now I will always wonder if they actually climb. I could cheat and PhotoShop one of the lions on the ground into a tree..but I am an honest person (heeeheee) and will admit that I did not witness this curious behavior.
Isaac and I then drove to Bwindi. It only took a couple hours on another dirt/pot-holed, bumpy road. When we arrived at Mahogany Springs Lodge (www.mahoganysprings.com), I discovered heaven!!!! WOOOOOOHOOOOOO 24-hour hot water and electricity!!!!! I have a plug in my room to charge and write on my computer at any time I want. BUT THE BEST PART is WIFI in the main dining area!!!!!!!!!!! This is truly heaven and the bartender’s name is GOD (well spelled Gad), but this is the closest this atheist will ever get to God!!!!! To give thanks and praise, I decided to give back to the community by planting a tree for all the electricity I am soaking up (it is hydro-power instead of solar since they are next to a river). The Lodge has a program to give back by supporting schools and guests can add to the environment by planting a tree for $50. There will be a plaque next to the tree with my name and the date planted and I will receive updates by email with pictures of my tree.
The lodge is quite lovely and is situated on a hill just above the river and the stone paths from the guest huts lead to the river; an open stone terrace overlooking the river and the surrounding tea and banana farms; and the main, communal guest area where there is a bar, the dining room, a gift shop, and a sitting area with a fireplace. My hut has an outdoor patio with a view of the local farms. The hut itself is made of ____ with a roof made of grass and woven reeds. The interior has stucco walls, teak furniture and doors, and wooden floor. The entire front of my hut has huge bay windows allowing the sun to shine inside. The lodge is quite lovely and the food is terrific. The chef is from Nepal.
Since I arrived early, I decided to do the community walk instead of waiting until tomorrow after the gorilla trek because I have no clue how long it will take to find them and who knows what shape I will be in after. I think I will get an hour massage for $40.
The community walk is the view I am looking at from my window. I went to see a tea farmer, a banana farmer, a coffee farmer, the local healer, and of course the Batwa people, better known as the Pygmy people. Every time I think of the word Pygmy, I am reminded of a story an old school chum from NYU told me. His name is Gary Jones, for those who do not know him, he is a writer living in Los Angeles and he is always good for a quick, hilarious one-liner or tall tale. Well this one involved him swinging by his foot at the end of a play in which he played a pygmy and someone from the audience yelled, “Why that is the biggest pygmy I have ever seen!” I am chuckling now as I write it. Well, dear Gary, now that I have seen a true Pygmy in the flesh, you are much too large to ever play one. Good thing you put away your tap shoes and took up the pen.
I met my community guide Joel, a rather slim guy who looked all of twelve years and 80 pounds. As it turns out he was 22 years and weighed 83 pounds (just kidding, I have no clue how much he actually weighs but he is 22). He asked me my age and I told him 49 (I will be in June) and he said in his community I would be an elder because the women live to about 54-55. He thought I was 29. He does work for tips so nuff said on that one. So I better live it up in Uganda because by their standards I only have a couple years to go.
We took the path off the hotel parking area that leads to his village area. The mud/clay and stone path is about 1ft wide and a steep drop downhill with rough steps cut into the rocks and mud. It is quite slippery and with big hiking boots I feel like a giant Big Foot clunking down the hill or perhaps something out of a 50s film like Attack of the Amazon Woman stomping around a falling into a house and crushing it. Once you hit the bottom, it’s a steep climb uphill to the other side. Sections of the path are really muddy so people have put a six-inch board across to walk on to avoid sinking into the mud. The path winds through and around the crops of tea. Joel often said to hold onto the tea for support when we were on the slippery areas.
When we reached the community area, we had to climb more rocky, muddy hills while passing homes and cows and chickens and goats. In addition to the mud, I had to avoid stepping in animal poop as well. We first went to visit the Batwa (Pygmy) people. Joel introduced me to Alfons, the leader of the group, and he took me on a tour of his village. He first explained how the Batwa came to be. The original man had three sons and he gave each son a jug of milk and told them to hold the milk for him and he would return to get the milk. Days later, he went to the first son to retrieve his milk and the first son gave him back a full jug. The father was thrilled and said for such a good and trustworthy son, I will give you all the riches and cattle you can keep. Then he went to the next son who returned the jug half full. To that son who only deserved 50% of his trust he gave farmland and told him to work the land for his living. When the old man got to his third son, the son gave his father an empty jug. The father, shocked and saddened, said that he could not trust this greedy son and he gave him bows and arrows and told him to go into the forest and try to survive. From that son the Batwa people (or Pygmies) came.
For years the Batwa lived and survived in the forest, but now they live in the hills below the forest. Amos, who was about 4ft, 5in in height and looked like he weighed 70 lbs, took me around his village area showing me how they use pieces of ant hives in trees to rub on their skin to cure burns. They use certain herbs to treat illnesses, and there is a tree which is their Viagra. When a man or woman feels low in energy, he or she can go to the tree and bite off a piece of the bark and they are instantly energized. As I said the ground is muddy and rocky and the Batwa people wear no shoes so their feet are as tough as shoe leather. He showed me their traditional houses which are tine teepee-like huts made of grass. After the tour, I was invited to sit and watch some of their traditional drumming and dancing. It was really odd because I felt like this humongous alien in big space boots (or dare I say Gulliver) who landed in the village of Tiny Town merry makers. After watching their traditional dances I was invited to buy some of their handcrafts, which I did, and then to give a gift of appreciation to the community. After I bought some gifts from Amos, I gave him some money and he held it up for the group to see and they clapped and thanked me. Then I took my big feet out of there and stomped my way to the next person on the tour.
We went to see a tea farm and Joel explained how they grow and harvest tea. The next place was the banana farmer’s house. There Joel explained how they grow bananas; how they harvest them; how they heat them under piles of leaves to quicken the ripening process; and how they take the ripe bananas and make juice, wine and finally gin out of it. This was quite interesting because they put the ripe bananas in a ten-foot long tube-shaped bowl (looks more like a flat ended canoe) and then wash their feet before getting in the bowl and stomping the bananas until the juice is formed. Then they tip the bowls and collect the juice. This juice can then be fermented into wine, and then double distilled into the local gin, which is 40% alcohol. I was then given a taste of each. The juice was not as sweet as I thought it would be. The wine was quite bitter. The gin was plain awful. It smelled like most home-made moonshine, for those who have had it, but it was really harsh on the way down. I had a small sip and after it scratched its way down my throat I started coughing uncontrollably. The banana farmer and Joel started laughing and said I must not be a drinker. For those who know me and have seen me put a few away, you know this gin must have been harsh because I am no stranger to fire water, but this was like drinking liquid sand. Needless to say, I did not ask to buy any to take home.
Next I saw a coffee farm and learned about how they harvest and dry the beans. My last stop was to see the local healer named Alfons. He was an older guy with tricky, twinkling eyes. I could tell he was quite the mischievous type. The best was the calendar behind him that had a huge photo of Obama and a headline that read: African Blood Takes Over the World. Alfons was quite humorous and kept speaking to me in French. He showed me his herbs and explained what a few of them are used to cure. Before explaining the herbs and their curing properties, he had to put on his healer outfit, which consisted of a wide goat-skin sash and a floppy brimmed goat skin hat that had a strap that went under his chin. I really wanted to buy his hat, but figured it would be offensive to ask so I just sat there with covetous eyes staring at his fabulous chapeau. I would have gotten to see the local school, but the children are on holiday until the end of February. After his talk, I thanked him for his time and then Joel and I made our way back to my hotel. I gave him a donation to be shared with everyone I met and he thanked me and off I went. The bottom of my jeans was caked with mud so I had to turn them over to the hotel for washing.
I must say, I have truly been the biggest dirtball. I have been turning in clothes to be washed that are so filthy it is embarrassing. The t-shirt I had on from walking with the chimps in Ngambe Island looked like it had been soaked in rust in spots. My clothes from tracking the chimps were covered in mud and stains from all the vines. I just handed over my jeans with the cuffs caked with mud and probably cow dung. When I shower the white towels are brownish. I am a dirty birdie. Not to mention I constantly reek of insect repellant, which I lather on like an old French whore trying to get ready for my next john sans bathing. Every day I hit a new level of filth. Can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow.
My dinner was terrific at Mahogany Springs: sweet corn chowder, mixed grill (chicken, fish, beef, pork, and goat) with vege fried rice with carrots and string beans, and marble cake with vanilla cream. Everything was tasty. The meat here is like meat everywhere – a tad chewier that in the US where we feed our animals corn to increase the fat, which makes the meat more tender so we can easily gum it if necessary. Our chickens are warehoused in giant tents with no light and fed corn until their breasts almost burst…blah blah blah. I am not going to go down that road. On that note, I will say goodnight Gracey. Tomorrow I track the gorillas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!