21
JULY 2005 ‚ 1037 HOURS ‚ INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL, NAIROBI KENYA
Houston, we had a problem. The plane trip from Kigali to Nairobi was as smooth
as silk, but once we got to the head of the passport control line and in front
of the agent, we were told we could not re-enter Kenya without paying another
$50 per person for new visas.
What the fuck? Sigh, I could run the gamut I played in the mental version of
the blame game that sped through my head, but the bottom line is that we had
single entry visas issued for Kenya when we should have had multiple entry visas.
Bottom line, it's our fault, but that didn't stop me from cursing Kenya, our
travel agent, George Bush, the hutus, and just about every bureaucrat living
and dead. Still we are ultimately responsible for procuring the proper travel
documentation, but still it was a pain.
We had to fill out a new form and wait
in a humongus line of other passport control rejects, just to be extorted for
another $20 each (we opted to get the cheaper
transit visa instead, and we'll have to get another when we return from Zanzibar
on August 3) and a passport page wasted just to be granted the privilege of entering
their stinking country for an overnight stay.
I was so angry I was on the
verge of losing it. I can tolerate a vast array of pain and aggravation,
but there's something about being helplessly caught up in bureaucratic
rigamarole that leaves me shaking and telling myself you have to find
away over it.
And just when I was at my worst, I did. I went back to the Virunga Mountains
and the gorillas. I just took a deep breath and replayed the magic majesty
of being next to those incredible beings, and in the space of only a few seconds,
I was fine. The delay was fine. The hassle was fine.
The
gorillas showed me not to sweat the little shit. I turned to Susan,
who was doing her best
to keep it together about me almost falling apart, and I gave her a
kiss
and I said all was right in the world. "I went back to the gorillas," I
told her, "in my head." She nodded, relieved that I'd calmed down.
Even when it seemed that several incoming passengers seemed to cut
to the front of the line, I just pictured that infant male wrestling
with his brother and mom, and I was THERE! I could smell the forest
and feel the give of its floor beneath me and re-experience each and
every encounter. I guess you could say I finally found my "happy place," but
I don't want to trivialize it. Never in my life have I been able to
reverse an emotional course so completely ‚ especially when what ever
was causing the emotion was still not resolved. And being with those
gorillas gave me that ability. Without reservation I can honestly say
that seeing them upclose and so content and relaxed and able to live
their lives was a life-changing event. Perhaps not in a big sense like
I'm going to go out and become the next Dian Fossey, but I know that
in my own little way I'm going to be able to roll with the punches
life throws me much easier now.
With transit visas in hand we
reconnected with our luggage down in the baggage claim then found our
way to the Pollman's Tours kiosk and got hooked up with a driver who
got us here to the Intercontinental Hotel, despite having to detour
around the aftermath of a multi-block protest that had been cordoned
off by police who were still out in force and on alert against threats
to burn down the country's parliament buildingÖ which is basically
across the street from our hotel. Was I worried as officers kept preventing
us from turning and motioning us to the next street where another officer
motioned us to the next street, and the next one until finally we could
turn? Nah, I just went and sat with Agashya the silverback from the
13 Group we saw yesterday
Tomorrow is Tanzania!