To Takari – a Jane Goodall Institute compound where our boat awaits. We meet a bunch of people. Names aren’t a strong point for me. I can’t keep everyone straight. There’s Mary, a baboon researcher. Shadrac – a chimp researcher, I think. I send greetings to him from mom and dad who visited here a few years ago. “Habari/Nzuri” a million times. The famous boat ride. Is this too a movie? It looks like I pictured it because I’ve already ‘seen’ it on video so many times. So surreal to be seeing it ‘live’. Civilization quickly left behind. Thatch huts. Torn-sailed dhows. Wooden canoes. Earnest operators. Arms uplifted in waves of greeting. We motor past tiny villages. Houses right on the beach. Clay brick with metal roofs. Some are grass. Deforested hills ascend from the shore. We discuss erosion and ignorance. We see the same thing at home in Oregon. ‘Gombe Stream National Park’. A small sign marks the boundary. Lush, forested hillsides offer clearer distinction. Baboons are sitting on the beach. Someone points out a ‘Wazungu’ Tree – stark white bark stands out against a deep green backdrop. The park is twelve miles long and two miles deep along the eastern shore of Lake Tanganyika. We are all smiles. ‘Welcome home, Bill and Kristin!’ Their hut. An icon. We settle in, pleased to learn that there is room for Brian, Will and I in Jane’s house – a linear stone dwelling with 3/4 wall rooms. Open air. Screened around the periphery. Utilitarian. No glass. Dinner of samosas, chapattis and beef kabobs carried from town. Fresh avocado and mango. Cool beer. It’s all perfect.
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