I’ve always loved animals — every kind of creature, big or small. As a child, nature documentaries like Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom captivated me, fueling dreams of someday seeing Africa’s majestic wildlife up close. I longed to live among these creatures, study their behaviors, and dedicate myself to protecting them. Yet, as many journeys do, my trip to Africa in 2004 unfolded into something far more complex and transformative than I had imagined.
Setting Out to Live a Dream
For my 40th birthday, my boyfriend and I planned a trip to Uganda, aiming to explore the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest near the volatile Democratic Republic of Congo. We were aware of the risks but felt it was worth it—after all, I’d long believed that if I were to die doing something I loved, my soul would rest easy.
Our adventure began in Kenya’s Maasai Mara National Reserve. Upon arrival, the heat bore down fiercely. Lying in my tent, I heard a mysterious bird’s call, unlike any I had known. It was the cuckoo, not the most dazzling of birds, yet its haunting song captivated me, a fitting metaphor for Africa itself: breathtaking yet enigmatic.
Beauty and Hardship Side by Side
Africa is a land of striking extremes. The vast landscapes and abundance of wildlife astounded me, but alongside the beauty, poverty and disease were ever-present realities. As a middle-class visitor from a developed nation, the stark contrast was jarring.
Our accommodations were guarded by Maasai warriors, who escorted us safely between tents, reminding me of the vulnerability of our situation. Basic amenities were scarce; toilets were rudimentary, and water was a precious resource trucked in from miles away. Luxury came in the form of brief, hot showers carried in by hand—privileges that made me reflect deeply on my own overindulgent life back home.
Uganda’s Bwindi Forest: A Tougher Reality
The journey to Bwindi was far more grueling—a ten-hour drive through impoverished villages where children, some barely able to walk, helped with household chores like sweeping dirt or fetching water. Villages anticipated our passage; children lined the streets, calling out and running alongside our vehicle, hoping for small gifts. We handed out candy and pencils, aware that these simple items meant a great deal.
As we neared the gorilla camp, the land grew barren, and the local people’s astonished gazes followed our every move. Many orphans ran the small shops selling handmade crafts to fund their schooling—among them, a poised sixteen-year-old girl who spoke flawless English. Her strength and responsibility amid hardship touched me deeply and stirred a newfound empathy toward the human condition.
Meeting the Mountain Gorillas
One of the most profound moments came when we trekked to meet the mountain gorillas—fewer than 900 remained in the wild. Accompanied by armed guards, we located a family within an hour. The gorillas’ human-like expressions, soft black fur, and tender interactions mesmerized me. The silverback, majestic and powerful, sat calmly as young ones played atop him, a poignant reminder of the fragile beauty of life.
Confronting Privilege and Guilt
The trip culminated with a stay on an island camp en route back to Entebbe. Passing tea plantations, I noticed workers hiding from our gaze, women toiling barefoot from dawn till dusk for barely a dollar a day. Nearby, men cracked rocks to make gravel, enduring grueling labor for meager pay. My morning cup of tea suddenly felt like a symbol of disparity—a bitter reminder of my own privilege.
That night, my perspective on fairness, work, and humanity shifted irrevocably. My African adventure was not just about wildlife or landscapes; it was a powerful mirror reflecting the stark inequalities of the world. I now call this experience “My African High” — a euphoric awakening to how fortunate I am, and a grounding call to live with greater awareness and compassion.
A Lasting Impact and New Journeys Ahead
After returning home, I proposed to my family that we replace adult gift-giving with charitable donations—an attempt to honor the spirit of this transformative journey. Two decades later, I am preparing for another African expedition, this time to Botswana with my brother. We will explore the continent as mature adults, ready to embrace both its wonders and challenges.
Though I anticipate the thrill of witnessing black-maned lions hunting, I suspect the enduring memories will go far beyond wildlife — rooted instead in the humanity, resilience, and profound lessons Africa imparted to me.
Diane R. Jones is the author of the award-winning children’s series Rudy the Rudster. An avid animal lover and environmental advocate, she lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.