Lake of Many Little Birds (Bunyoni)

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Pygmies and Pigotts

For those of you still reading this blog (and presumably care what adventures we’re on) this past weekend we took a trip down to Lake Bunyoni (lake of many little birds), which is in the southernmost corner of Uganda on the border with Rwanda and not far from the Democratic Republic of Congo.  It is a very long, narrow, finger-like lake at an altitude of 6333ft that is dotted with islands and ringed with hills. The residents who live here are farmers.  They farm every square inch of the hills, which they have mostly deforested.  Where gorillas, chimps and a dozen species of monkey once roamed now it is nothing but bald mountains all divided up neatly into rows.

The view from the porch of our geo dome the first morning.

Open-air geo dome

But the effect is stunning.  Mindblowing.  The surrounding hills are a patchwork of different crops.  Each hill (or mountain, as the case may be) is farmed all the way to the tippy top.  The texture, light, and colors are surreal: mainly women performing gravity defying subsistence farming of sweet potato and beans.

Fresh crayfish

We stayed at a resort called Byoona Amagara on Intambura Island.  We arrived at sunset and had a short motorized canoe ride (considered a “speed boat”) to the island, where we were shown our geo-dome lodgings and got some much-welcomed dinner after our very long drive (9 hours to drive 300 miles with a stop for lunch).  We were surprised to find that the geo domes were “open air,” meaning they had no front!  It was too dark to really see much of our surroundings, so we somewhat apprehensively accepted the accommodations. 

It wasn’t until the songs of the birds woke us up that we realized our extraordinary surroundings.  We sat up in bed and saw the lake with low clouds and mist in the early morning light.  The birdsongs were magical, and several little birds flew in and out of our geo dome, perching on the bed net and the chairs.  It was very much like waking up in a fairy tale. 

Sam and Joe on hike to Batwa village.  Every inch of that hill is farmed.

We had arranged to be taken that day to a Batwa village.  The Batwa people are what we call Pygmies. There aren’t many of them left, since they were the original inhabitants of sub-Saharan Africa.  The Batwa were out-competed for farmland, being hunter-gatherers.  They live in communities of between 20 to 75, since it’s hard to get bigger than that as a hunter-gatherer society.  After about an hour in the “speed boat,” we then walked a dirt road for another 1½ hours.  White people are decidedly a novelty in this part of the country, and as we walked farther down the valley, where women and children were farming the hillsides, we continuously heard shouts of, “Howayu? Howayu?” (“How are you?”) ringing out from all directions.  These were the voices of children, young and old.  Some children who appeared to be no older than two were doing their level best to say, “How are you?”  Apparently that is all the English they know.  That, and, “Give me your bottle!”  Kathleen was carrying a water bottle, and all the little kids wanted it!  Many of these kids formed a small parade behind us, giggling and laughing each time we turned to smile at them. 

With Jackson, our guide.  Quite possibly in Rwanda.

Joe is the first one the locals warm to.

As we came to another beautiful valley, our guide let us know that the opposite hill was Rwanda. It was possibly the most beautiful and remote spot any of us has ever been in.  We climbed a steep hill off of the main path and promptly came to the Pygmie/Batwa village.  I think we’ve located it on Google Earth here so cut & paste this into your Google Earth search bar: 1° 21’ 49.78” S 29° 52’ 59.52” E.  The visit felt very intrusive, but they seemed utterly pleased to sing and dance for us.  Of course, we paid for the demonstration. We bought some of their crafts, took several photos, and quickly left them to get back to their work.  Although desperately poor, they graciously welcomed us and seemed entirely happy, until they saw Dave dance.

Aside from visiting a disappearing culture, despite its forced integration into farming, the lake, the resort, and the lodging vibe were by far the most memorable part of this trip.  

Lake Bunyonyi is completely enchanting and enchanted.  There are places in the lake where they have not found the bottom.  No waves, no wind. Just hundreds of species of little birds communicating in frequencies beyond description, farmers bringing their children to school via canoe, variations of green stripes forever, humble and sincere people eking out a living any way they can.

Simply magical and so remote I doubt I’ll ever get back there.