It was the evening of January 22, 1991. Fatigued, confused and extremely apprehensive about the day's event, I collapsed onto my bed, hoping for a quiet night's sleep. Only hours earlier, my colleagues and I had been 10,000 feet up on the slopes of an ancient volcano planning to complete the final sequences of a unique film about the severely endangered mountain gorillas (Gorilla gorilla beringei) of Central Africa.

Those plans had been "inconsiderately" interrupted by distant mortar fire and a frantic radio call from the Rwandan military demanding that our film crew abandon work immediately. An army escort met us at the forest boundary and returned us to our base camp in Ruhengeri, a town some 15 miles away. Rwanda, the country I'd called home for the past several years, was under siege by rebel forces and expelled refugees. The Rwandan military believed that the forest of the Parc National des Volcans (PNV), last refuge of the mountain gorilla, would become a major front in the clash between rebel and government forces.

Although I was exhausted, sleep did not come easily. The day's events raced through my mind, raising questions about the future of this tiny African nation. My restless thoughts soon turned to the gorillas sleeping soundly a few miles away in their fragile montane-forest home. I recalled the decades of scientific research and conservation work that had prevented them--- thus far--- from teetering over the edge to extinction. I wondered if that work had been in vain and if the unpredictable nature of war would result in the ultimate demise of this shy and peaceful primate giant.

A Midnight Reverie

I thought about my first trip to Rwanda in 1978 to work with Dian Fossey at the Karisoke Research Center. At the time, close encounters between gorillas and humans were extremely rare. Only a handful of scientists had experienced the wonders of viewing this endangered species in the forests high on the slopes of the Virunga Mountains.

The outlook for the gorillas and the PNV was grim in those days. The park had been created in the 1920s as Africa's first national park, specifically to protect mountain gorillas. A dramatic increase in the human population near the park, and a variety of land development schemes, had resulted in a progressive reduction of the PNV's area, a bad omen for the mountain gorilla. Over the previous 20 years, more than 85,000 acres had been taken from the park to create housing, farmland, and a huge project to produce pyrethrum insecticide. In addition, poaching of gorillas for their skulls, hands, and live infants continued to reduce the only remaining population of mountain gorillas.

It was clear that the vigilante style conservation tactics used by Dian Fossey in the early 1970s were no longer effective. They were also inappropriate since the establishment in 1973 of the Rwandan national parks authority: the Office Rwandaise du Tourism et des Parcs Nationaux (ORTPN).

The situation required a cooperative conservation effort that would effectively secure the park boundaries and preserve the gorilla population, while taking into account the socioeconomic pressures inherent in one of the most densely populated and natural resource deficient countries in the world. Rwanda's Mountain Gorilla Project (MGP) was created in 1979 to address these problems. Formed by a consortium of leading wildlife conservation organizations, the MGP forged an alliance with ORTPN, in which the two groups consulted on and implemented a workable scheme for gorilla conservation.

The Mountain Gorilla Project devised a four-pronged approach that included the development of a comprehensive management plan for the Parc National des Volcans; creation and coordination of effective antipoaching units to patrol the park; design and implementation of a conservation education program directed at communities bordering the park; and coordination of a tourist plan that would include controlled visits to habituated groups of gorillas. It was hoped that the tourist plan would provide the government and people of Rwanda with the economic incentives necessary to safeguard the park.

The evolution of events between 1979 and 1990 has been well-documented. The alliance between the MGP and ORTPN was a success, and, for the first time since its creation in 1925 as part of what was then Albert National Park, the PNV's borders were secure. Not one acre of forest was lost during this decade. In fact, negotiations with the people in one border community resulted in the reclamation of 135 acres of former forest, which quickly regenerated into secondary bamboo and is again part of a gorilla family's home range.

Conservation education programs have helped to dramatically change the attitudes of the local people who have to contend with a national park and wild animals in their backyard. In 1979, before the inception of the MGP/ORTPN program, only 39 percent of the rural population around the park perceived regional benefits emanating from the PNV. Within five years, 85 percent of these people felt that the region profited in some way from the park. The change in attitude is explained in part by the fact that profits from the PNV became tangible during this period. Parcs National des Volcans receipts ( a one-hour experience with the mountain gorillas cost an average of $150 U.S. during this period) and additional profits associated with "gorilla tourism" rocketed past more traditional Rwandan money earners to make tourism the country's second most important source of foreign exchange by 1989. The reputation of the gorilla tourism operation, coupled with the international success of the film Gorillas in the Mist, have made Dian Fossey, mountain gorillas, and Rwanda familiar to people all over the world. Given stable political conditions, tourism has the potential to become the single most important source of foreign exchange in Rwanda.

A Work in Progress

However, the program has also encountered its share of problems, and work of this sort can never be considered completely finished. Although direct poaching of gorillas has been totally contained for the past nine years, the presence in the forest of illegal wire snares set for antelope and buffalo still threatens the lives of individual gorillas. Thousands of these traps are disarmed throughout the PNV every year. Only a constant and active guard presence has reduced the high risk of gorillas becoming ensnared. In addition, the creation of the Volcano Veterinary Center (VVC) in 1987 has greatly increased the survival rate of those gorillas that are trapped.

Popularity, too, has had its price. The increased demands of international tourism have made it nearly impossible for Rwandans to obtain viewing permits to visit their most famous natural resource. The education programs that have taught Rwandans the marvels of this species will be of little practical import if the animal becomes a luxury item that only wealthy foreigners are permitted to see.

Pressure from international tour operators, combined with the hard economic realities of Rwanda, has persuaded park officials to increase the number of tourists visiting a single gorilla group from the previous maximum of six to a new high of eight people. This deviation from the management protocol could have dramatic impact upon gorilla behavior and health in the future.

In 1988, another weakness in the conservation world's attempt to save the mountain gorilla was revealed when a respiratory epidemic struck four of the seven groups of gorillas monitored by the Mountain Gorilla Project and the Karisoke Research Center. Over a five-month period, 33 cases were monitored; six of these animals died. The MGP and the Volcano Veterinary Center combated the disease with a combination of daily surveillance and administration of antibiotics. The cause of the epidemic remains a mystery, but necropsy results from a juvenile gorilla revealed a high likelihood of measles.

The probable existence of this case of measles prompted the VVC and the MGP to design and implement a measles vaccination campaign. Two months later, 95 percent of the eligible gorillas had been vaccinated by blow darting, and, happily, no signs of comparable organic disease have been noted since.

The episode illustrates the susceptibility of the mountain gorilla population to diseases, however, and particularly to those transmitted by humans. Daily surveillance of gorilla groups continues and preventive health programs have been considered for both the gorilla population and the entire human staff of the PNV.

In addition, gorilla-seeking tourists are monitored for diseases by PNV officials and are prohibited to visit the animals if any symptoms are observed. Also, tourists must be older than 15 years of age to prevent the introduction of childhood diseases. Finally, to deter aerosol infection, minimum distance restrictions between humans and gorillas are strictly enforced.

In the 1980s, the Virunga population of mountain gorillas (this includes the PNV animals in Rwanda as well as gorillas in contiguous park areas in Zaire and Uganda) grew from 239 to 309, an increase of nearly 30 percent. About 8,000 tourists visited mountain gorilla groups in Rwanda in 1989. PNV receipts were in excess of $1,000,000 U.S. that year. Mountain gorilla survival is clearly and unequivocally linked to tourism, which permits the government to rationalize funding for ongoing park protection and gorilla preservation. Unfortunately, gorilla survival is linked to the whims of humankind in other, less benign, ways.

Awakening to Danger

It was 5:45 a.m., January 23, 1991. It seemed as if my eyes had just closed. Sleep was shattered by the sounds of machine-gun fire and grenades exploding nearby. I groggily tumbled to the floor and crawled to a central hallway. The hallway, which divided the house in half and was surrounded by thick, poured cement walls, was the most protected and, therefore, the most logical spot to be in the building. I shouted over the chaos outside for my colleagues in adjacent rooms to join me.

For the next 12 hours we hugged the floor, feeling utterly helpless and listening anxiously as bullets screamed overhead and mortar blasts fell indiscriminately outside our building. Rescue finally arrived in the form of a squad of French paratroopers. What a welcome sight they were! Alerted by embassy personnel, the paratroopers had come overland from Kigali, Rwanda's capital, to evacuate expatriates from the battle zone.

Many hours later, in the security of a comfortable Kigali hotel bar, our crew discussed the events of the past two days. We'd been extremely lucky to escape not only with our lives, but also with our equipment and exposed film. Two weeks later, as fighting continued throughout much of the country, we decided that it would be dangerous and futile to try to film the few sequences that remained. We departed several days later, hoping that peace would soon return to this war-ravaged country.

Rwanda has been on a roller coaster ride ever since. During the past two years, peace negotiations have stalled numerous times, and cease-fires have been followed by renewed and vigorous fighting. The political outlook remains dismal.

Directly linked to this tiny African nation's uncertain future is the survival of the mountain gorilla, the country's most important natural resource and an irreplaceable international treasure. During the war, the gorilla's forest home has been the scene of continual military activity. At least one gorilla, the patriarch and leader of his family, has been killed by random gunfire.

As we go to press, the political situation in Rwanda has further deteriorated, greatly threatening mountain gorilla conservation work in the Parc National des Volcans. Peace negotiations have stalled once again and heavy fighting has been reported in and around the PNV. The Karisoke Research Center and the Volcano Veterinary Center have had to abandon operations.

In addition, it is clearly unsafe for PNV personnel to conduct essential day-to-day gorilla protection activities. And, the strong military presence in the park, comprised of both government and rebel forces, poses a very dangerous situation for this already extremely endangered species. There is strong evidence of additional mountain gorilla casualties. The outlook for mountain gorilla survival appears more tenuous and pessimistic than ever.

I sometimes awake in the middle of the night after dreaming of real and imagined encounters with my anthropoid cousins. The dreams are almost always pleasant. On occasion, however, the dreams become nightmares. I dream that all that remains of mountain gorillas are images on film; that the documentary I worked on is humanity's epitaph to this most tolerant and gentle of primates. I try to sleep again, hoping that a peaceful settlement can be achieved in Rwanda and that mountain gorillas will once again be safe in their forest home.

Craig Sholley, a former Baltimore Zoo curator and former director of Rwanda's Mountain Gorilla Project, is a wildlife biologist who consults on wildlife filmmaking and international ecotourism.

This article previously published in "ZooGoer" magazine, March/April 1993. This version, for IWRC online published with permission of the author.