Rabies?

Rabies?

Wendesday, 7 November 2007

I got bitten by a dog around noon on Monday, the 22nd of October. Sistebol and I had left the village of Ioko a few hours before, and were approaching the next village of Elema-Impata. The first hour of trail was through dense forest, with the next 30 minutes or so trudging through knee- to waist-deep water of the inundated Lokeli River.

When we neared the village, the dense forest gradually gave way to slashed-and-burned agricultural fields on either side of the trail. We started passing villagers going to and from their fields carrying machetes, hoes, and baskets filled with manioc tubers or firewood. I saw the three dogs ahead on the trail, but had little choice but to pass through their huddle. Sistebol went ahead without incident, with me close behind. It was only once I had passed that one turned back to bite my leg. When I turned around I didn't even know which of the three had bitten me.

Sistebol was surprised, and several passing farmers and children seemed so too. Several people gathered around as I cleaned the wound with my water bottle. Blood flowed cleanly from the wound, directly from the muscle that showed below the skin. The bite wasn't very broad, just a bit deep. No major veins or arteries. I dabbed it dry, applied some antibiotic ointment, and put on a band-aid.

Of course, as any foreign traveller in Africa is trained to think, my first concern was the possibility of rabies. Sistebol was nonchalant: "Don't worry, the dogs around here don't have rabies, they have tetanus!" Oh great. At least I know I have an effective vaccination against tetanus. We continued our trek, and I changed the bandage and ointment regularly over the coming days.

This incident happened on my first actual vacation from LuiKotal. The destination was Lokolama, which is the only town of any consequence in the area. Aside from our Camp, Lokolama is the only place where any of the villagers that work for us are able to acquire any consumer goods like machetes, buckets, soap, or clothing. It is also the seat of various governement offices, so our camp maintains relations with many of the officials based there. I had heard a lot about this great metropolis over the months at Camp, so was determined to pay the place a visit.

In order to leave my post for a few days, I had been training our interim Camp Manager, Babs, for a couple of weeks. Things at camp were to be fairly calm during the week of my absence, so Babs would mostly just need to manage its day-to-day running. It would be good practice for her, and we would have the opportunity to discuss any problems before they got out of hand. (In fact, this is precisely how it worked - things went relatively smoothly, Babs was able to learn from the things which didn't go well, and I was able to help clear things up when I got back.)

Well Lokolama is about 83km from Camp. From Lompole, which is a 20km walk from Camp, the local people generally make the trip in two days. Elema-Impata is often the halfway point, though Ioko is also feasible. Both days of walking are very long, and the trail ranges from bad to horrendous. Some stretches are good enough to pedal a bicycle on, but most bikes are just used as overburdened carts with people pushing the loads along the same route most people walk.

So Monday I got bitten by a dog en route around noon, and we arrived in Lokolama shortly after sundown. Tuesday was my touristing day, when I saw the sites of the city and greeted every single government official there. The regional leader, "le Chef de Secteur" invited Sistebol and I for breakfast "a votre honneur" on Wednesday, and then we started the walk back. We got back to Ioko that night, after around 40km in about 9 hours of non-stop speedwalking. Thursday we kept walking, and I left Sistebol in the last village before Lompole. I got back shortly before 3pm, and wanted nothing more than to just keep going to reach camp. I greeted the villagers, was fed a small meal, picked up my tent, and continued on my way. It was another day of about 40km by the time I pitched my tent at Penge, which is a small clearing about an hour before the Lokoro. Friday morning I walked the last hour, yelled at the top of my lungs for a while, and waited for someone from camp to show up in the dugout canoe to take me across the river. After waiting for over an hour, it was clear that nobody could hear me, so I left my bag and started swimming. The water was high, so it ws a good 30 minutes of swimming within the inundated forest before I could even touch bottom, with frequent breaks holding on to trees to catch my breath. I stumbled the last kilometre or so into camp, soaking wet, arriving about 48 hours after leaving Lokolama. Someone went to fetch my bag on the far side of the river, and I spent the rest of the day relaxing, recovering, and treating my wounds.

I had been away for exactly one week. The whole trip constitutes enough of an exciting adventure to warrant its own blog entry, but this one is supposed to be about rabies so the trip gets abbreviated to one long paragraph. Sorry. I may or may not get back to that later.

On my weeklong trip, the dog bite was really just one little ailment among many. My feet had plenty of blisters, my arms and legs got loads of other scrapes, cuts, and bites, and my guts had been periodically rebelling against me. While travelling as well as once back at camp, I spent every evening applying ointment and bandaids to various wounds. The dog bite was just one among many.

Back at camp, though, I read a bit more about rabies. It seems that the vaccine (which I got some doses of but not all) offers somewhat of a shield, but that immunity is impossible. It also seems that the incubation period can vary, depending on health, the pre-exposure vaccines, and whatever else, and can be as long as a year. Post-exposure treatment can be taken any time during the incubation period and eliminate the possibility of the bite incident leading to rabies. Once symptoms start to appear, it is too late for treatment and, as one of the books describes, "a slow painful death is inevitable."

The first symptoms are apparently some tingling around the wound, and general pain in the affected limb. Well of course I immediately started noticing that my leg was sore, and that the bite spot hurt. Yeah, all the other cuts and blisters and overworked muscles and joints hurt a bit too, but they wouldn't indicate anything besides a tired body.

One way to determine if rabies is present is to monitor the dog for a couple of weeks. I started writing a letter to Lompole, asking our collaborator there to ask the people of Impata-Elema to let me know if any dog turned up dead in their village within a couple of weeks of my bite. The letter wouldn't be sent to Lompole until Monday, when the porters came with our food transport.

I discussed the dog situation of the region with our local workers. They said that rabies isn't common, and several of them pointed out spots where dogs had bitten them. I asked about the dogs in the village of Impata-Elema, and they said the place probably has 150 of them running around. The village probably has around 40 homes, so I assume this is an overestimation of of the dog population, but the conclusion is that there are too many dogs for the villagers to really keep track of any of them. The dogs are used for hunting, so they have a lot of contact with all of the local wildlife, particularly anything that is on the ground. Based on this, I assume that if any nearby village's dogs were to end up with a few rabid individuals, Impata-Elema is the most-likely contender.

This is basically all the information available to make a decision. The decision basically comes down to two choices: do nothing, or leave camp to go for the post-exposure treatment. It basically comes down to weighing the risks. Given the information, it appears that risk is low. The bite wasn't that nasty, and rabies isn't common in the area anyway. Low as the risk may be, however, it is not zero: the possibility of rabies remains. And given the consequences ("slow painful death is inevitable"), I came to the decision that the risk warranted my evacuation.

This decision was not an easy one, and was not taken without a lot of thought and discussion with a couple of my campmates. I got back from my trip on Friday morning, read about rabies on Friday night and Saturday afternoon (in different books), and finally decided to contact my travel insurance company on Monday morning. My time at camp was to last another six weeks, and I had a number of big projects to accomplish still. So both professionally and psychologically, I wasn't ready to leave yet. Monday was a sad day.

This was the first test of Camp's means of emergency evacuation. I started with my travel insurance, since I needed to convince them to pay the flight bill. It took several phone calls, numerous agents and supervisors, and way too much explanation of how stupid they were being. "Before we can authorise an evacuation, we need you to consult a medical professional who agrees that your case could be improved with an evacuation"; "No, I need the evacuation so that I can get to the medical professional." Ridiculous. The satphone had hundreds of dollars wasted on such stupidity that day.

Eventually they agreed that I needed to be evacuated to seek medical attention, but they couldn't figure out how to evacuate me. In the end it was me organising the plane out, with the insurance company just contacting them to promise payment. The plane was scheduled for the next morning from the Ipope airstrip, 27km from camp. I had packed my things quickly in between phone calls, and sent them ahead with the porters. Andrew and I left around 5pm with one of our plant experts, Kabongo. We did most of the walk at night. In one of the knee-deep stretches of inundated trail, I got a massive electric shock up my left leg from the Nina, one of my favourite meals (the electric fish). We got to Lompole around 10pm, and everyone in the village had already gone to bed.

A few people were awoken, and we ate some rice. Andrew and I were totally beat, and shared my little tent for the night. Finally crashing after midnight, it was the latest Andrew had ever stayed up in the Congo.

We were up by 5:30 on Tuesday morning. A number of people came to greet me, all in shock at my sudden departure, and all sincerely disappointed. Given my position as everyone's boss around here, I've had, at times, tenuous relations with pretty much everyone. When it came down to it though, I was touched that the people genuinely respected me, despite the official role I was obliged to maintain. Yeah, it was often pretty frustrating to work with these people, but in the end we all understood one another. I was certainly disappointed to be extricating myself from their lives so suddenly.

Eventually we left for Ipope, with several people coming just to see me off. Andrew and I sat in a house for a while as we waited for word of the plane's progress, and our local friends came and went. We started the walk along the last two kilometres once we heard the plane overhead; it was waiting on the airstrip when we got there. At perhaps a dozen adults and fewer than 20 children, this was by far the smallest crowd I had ever witnessed at the airstrip. I got a couple of last photos, and got in the co-pilot seat. I was the plane's only passenger.

The flight was uneventful, with beautiful weather. The plane's GPS had been removed for repairs, so it was interesting for me to observe the pilot navigate visually with his maps and compass bearings. The forest has no roads and few major rivers, so landmarks are extremely limited. We made one stop at Semendua for gas, and arrived in Kinshasa by mid-afternoon.

The insurance company had asked the pilot to organise an ambulance to pick me up, but this would have been overkill. Instead, the GTZ sent a driver, Serge, over and we went to the Centre Medical de Kinshasa. (I walked into the lobby, and two teenage girls who were waiting there litterally broke out laughing as they stared at me - this was a precurser of what was to come in Kinshasa as people saw my huge beard.) One doctor sat down with me and talked about rabies, and basically said that the protocol is to watch the dog for a while. The CMK had no other means of testing or treating rabies. He called a veterinary doctor he had worked with in the past, and made me an appointment for the next morning.

Serge then took me to a bakery so I could indulge in a baguette with cheese, a chocolate eclair, and an apricot pie. I pigged out in the jeep as he navigated the rush hour traffic to where I'd be staying. The residents were surprised to see me show up, but they took me in. The house is my director Gottfried's, and it is currently occupied by a German couple, Kristian and Julie - Kris works at the GTZ. I finished my eclair, ate their leftovers, and we went for cold beers.

I went with Kristian to work on Wednesday morning, leaving by around 6:15 to beat the traffic. I did a lot of loitering around the GTZ office, as well as a bit of internet when one of the computers was free, and eventually convinced a driver to take me to the vet clinic.

The place was a joke. It basically consisted of a couple of rooms with people sitting at tables, with all the doors and windows wide open. I was directed to the bench in front of the Doctor, who opened his briefcase to get the information. The doctor had a facial expression and hand movements that reminded me of Mr Bean. The briefcase was basically filled with little scraps of paper, one of which was the folded insert from a Verorab treatment. He said it would consist of five shots over the coming 28 days, with a sixth one after 90 days, and that he had the shots available. A woman brought over a thermos to show me that yes, there was indeed a stock of them being kept refrigerated. He needed $420 though, and no, insurance or credit cards were not accepted. What a ridiculous proposition.

So I got my first shot on Thursday morning, when I returned to the clinic with a stack of American bills. This was November 1st - the 10th day since the dog bite. The first shot was a serum, whereas the next four are vaccinations. I don't really know what this means, exactly, except that the first one was really big and made my arm hurt for the rest of the day. 5ml into the muscle. My next appointment was for Monday, and three more were foreseen over the rest of the month. If I didn't want to stick around Kinshasa I could just pick up the remaining doses and take them with me, but they needed to be kept refrigerated (not frozen) to ensure their viability.

So Monday would be my next appointment, and I could leave town anytime after that. I changed my outgoing international flight for the following evening. I spent the weekend enjoying the company of Kristian and Julie, meeting several of their friends each day. Friday we even went to an expat party, so I met a few dozen diplomats, aid workers, and other random white folks with jeeps who live in Kinshasa. On Saturday we went to the market to get fresh produce for the week, and on Sunday we lounged around most of the day. Sunday night we went to a concert of Congo's foremost musician, Werrason, though we were so tired by the time he finally graced the stage sometime after 11. All in all, it was a good weekend.

On Monday I first went to the market to find a thermos, and settled for a funny purple one from China. I got to the vet clinic around 3:30, and the doctor was waiting for me alone. Everyone else had gone home, but he knew I'd be back. He also wanted me to exchange a bunch of the American bills I had paid, since many had little rips in them. I got the shot, we exchanged bills, and he gave me the three remaining syringes with vaccine vials for my thermos.

Tuesday was my last day in Congo. I checked my bags at the Air France office downtown in the morning, and accompanied the driver on a few of his other errands. I searched for lunch with Julie, who had also come to the GTZ for the day, and finally settled on the restaurant next to the office where I had been twice already. Kris joined us, as did Gaby, a friend who was at LuiKotal for several months. A kid walked by selling shoes, and I bought a pair - I'd been trying on such shoes all week, to no avail. Another kid repaired my other shoes, whose previous repair job had finally come apart again.

Before I got the ride to the airport, Julie and Kris and I went for a last round of drinks at a stall around the corner. It was a pretty anticlimactic finale, but entirely relaxing. At least we had had the Werrason concert on Sunday night, which was even preceded by a couple rounds of (excruciatingly pitiful) pool games. I headed to the airport Tuesday night.

So now I'm in Europe. I arrived in Paris this morning, Wednesday the 7th of November. I spent a few hours repacking my luggage, and I left the majority of my belongings at a storage place in the airport. I then flew to London's Luton airport on EasyJet, and took a bus downtown. I'm spending the night at the Museum Inn Hostel tonight, and will be paying the University College of London's Travel Clinic a visit in the morning. As a British citizen, I should receive free treatment, as long as they decide to admit me on the spot. My intent is not only to get more-professional attention to the rabies situation, but also to get the standard post-tropical screening that is necessary after an experience such as I just had. It remains to be seen what they'll decide to accord me.


The conclusion of all this, though, is that my time in the forest is now over. I still had a lot of stories that were unwritten, given my lack of adequate time to write while at Camp. I'd still like to share them, but as time goes by they may just get dropped. Sorry. We'll see.

The other thing is that I can no longer receive emails at LuiKotal. Anyone wishing to write me should revert back to my hotmail address: professionalnomad.

As for my travel plans, my first plan is to see what this travel clinic says tomorrow. From there, I probably won't stay too long in London. My trans-Atlantic flight is from Paris, so I'll be back there soon, and I certainly need to make a pilgrimage to Amsterdam while I'm in the area. My mom wants me in New Jersey for American Thanksgiving, which is realistic but not definite. But sometime around then is likely. Then what? Any suggestions?


-Ryan à London

(RM) Snail mail - last chance

Snail mail - last chance

Saturday, 15 September 2007

Last time I posted this type of message was in late April, about three weeks before Grit left Germany for LuiKotal. A few people sent small parcels to Germany at that time, which were much appreciated when they finally got here - Thanks!

Since then, there has not been another opportunity for me to receive any physical mail here until now. The director of our field site will be arriving from Germany in a few days, and he indeed has a care package of specific little things that I asked my mom to send me. In a few weeks, another plane will come to take him out, and will bring in Joel, a new member of the research team. Joel is currently in the US, and has graciously agreed to accept personal mail for me until is departure.

Soooo.... If you're feeling like it, please send me some mail via Joel. I've promised him that anything that arrives for me will be very small, basically limited to the size of a CD. What I would really love are CDs of photos. Please share your lives with me, showing what's been going on over in North America since I was last around to participate. Yeah, that means photos of family gatherings, photos of vacations, photos of mad partying, and yes, even baby photos.

In addition, I've got a specific request for any and all photos of the 2007 Burning Man festival. If you went, please share your photos with me! If you're a burner who's connected to other burners, please pass the message on - Hello AZBurners! I've asked my little sister to put a bunch of burncasts on a CD for me in that care package from my mom, but if you want to ensure I get some of those send them too.

We're really starved for any current events info or photos, so if you want to mine the internet for some interesting tidbits of news and burn that onto a disc, that would be cool too. Maybe copy some of the latest photo montages of big stories from the news sites? I don't know, get creative.

If you've got a few choice DVDs to send, we can watch them on the laptop. Nothing too risqué! Selections of mp3s you'd like to share will also be appreciated. The laptop can read DVDs or CDs for data and music, and my mp3 player has over 80GB of space left.

Alternatively, just send a simple postcard, or a handwritten letter with a couple of cut-out newspaper clippings or printed-out photos. As long as the physical contents are minimal, Joel should be able to pack it in his luggage, and I'll be happy to receive it:) Again, please keep the weight and volume to a minimimum - I've asked Joel to open everything and repackage it all together, so superfluous elements like cardboard or cases will probably be discarded.


Deadlines: The latest any mail should reach him is September 28th! Sorry that's such short notice, but at least his address is within the continental US. He'll be en route for most of the following week, and should be here around October 5th or so. If it arrives after he leaves, I'll probably get it around next summer.


If you decide you've got time to burn something onto a CD for me and send it by then, here's the mailing address:

------
Update:
Joel never made it. His visa application was rejected, and if he had delayed his arrival in Congo the charter plane to the forest would have been long past. Too bad. He's sending my mail to my mom, and I'll get it in early December when I return to North America.


Thanks in advance!


-Ryan à LuiKotal

(RM) What to bring

Sunday, 9 September 2007

What to bring


This entry wasn't written specifically for the blog, but I think it's interesting enough to be posted here. What follows is actually an email that I'm sending to two people that will be joining us here at camp in the next couple of weeks. Cintia will be arriving in mid-September, and Joel gets here in early October. Both had the foresight to write for advice on what to expect, and they certainly get an earful.

So if you're interested, read through my response. To put it in context, try to picture your imminent departure for a stay of six to nine months here. I include tons of details because I think they're useful - I got practically none of this info before arriving, and wish I had.

Enjoy,

Ryan



Hi Cintia, Hi Joel,

My name is Ryan Matthews (a languid Canadian of 30), and I'm currently working as the camp manager at LuiKotal. I am writing both of you at once, because you are both arriving here shortly and will therefore benefit from the same information. Cintia will be flying from Kinshasa to Ipope with Gottfried on the 17th of September, and Joel will be flying in on the plane that takes Gottfried out in early October. We look forward to welcoming you here.

VISAS
If you haven't already procured your visas, you'd better do so. They are extended once you're here, so it doesn't really matter if your initial visas are for one month or six. The original single- or multiple-entry status of the visas remains once they are
extended, so plan accordingly if you hope to leave the country and return again within the validity of the visa.

PASSPORTS
We have our passports here in camp, and send them to Kinshasa with outgoing planes before the visas expire. If your visa will not be valid beyond the time of the following outgoing plane (December sometime), you ought to leave it with someone from the GTZ before coming to LuiKotal. If it will be valid for several months still, bring it to camp and we'll send it out later. The visa cannot be extended until shortly before it expires. The GTZ representative that handles our visa extensions is Noel Duli.

PLANE TICKETS
If you plan on staying in Congo for more than 6 months, your plane ticket will likely cost a lot more and have a validity of up to one year. This is what I got. I was obliged to name a return date, although I still have no idea when this will be exactly, so I just took the latest date available.

When you come here, I recommend that you bring all of your documents to LuiKotal with you. For the plane tickets, try to bring an email address through which you will be able to make changes to the departure date. Some people email their family members to make the changes on their behalf; I can email the travel agent through whom I bought my ticket. Plan accordingly.

KINSHASA
Avoid looking like military when you arrive at Kinshasa airport. This includes your luggage. For your profession, say "biologist". Be patient with customs. Don't pay them. Keep a good watch on your luggage from the moment you first spot it getting thrown onto the baggage carousel until it's in the back of the jeep (the one you're getting into) with the doors shut and locked.

You will be given some logistical support by a GTZ representative on your arrival, which is essential. You will be met at the airport and transported into the city, and accommodations will be arranged for you. When I arrived, my accommodations were at the Centre d'Acceuil Protestant (CAP). I was expected to pay for these accommodations, so you will likely be so as well. It was around $50 per night. I recommend asking if there are any cheaper rooms than the one they first stick you in. They are all bland and adequate.

Another researcher will be joining us along with you, Joel, so she will likely also be staying at CAP when you are there. The rooms each have two single beds, so I recommend sharing a room and splitting the cost, rather than getting two separate double rooms. Her name is Julia and I don't know anything else about her.

The city is expensive and not very user-friendly. I recommend avoiding a long stay there, if at all possible. It is possible to get a few provisions there, but nothing can really be guaranteed. Try to complete all of your shopping before getting to Kinshasa. Don't count on doing any internet in Kinshasa, although you may succeed. The place I found was so slow and kept suffering power outages that it wasn't even worth attempting any more.

Cintia, although Gottfried may be in Kinshasa at the same time as you, he'll be busy taking care of stuff and you won't likely see him much between your arrival and your departure. Bring a book to pass the time at CAP, or brave the city and roam around.

Joel, you can probably expect the same lack of hand-holding. Really, you're basically on your own there. At least you may have Julia to commiserate with. It would be prudent to roam the streets together rather than solo anyway.

Changing money is easy in Kin, although shop around to discover a reasonable rate for dollars. There are literally women sitting on the sidewalk with stacks of bills and calculators waiting to exchange currency, though you may be better of at an indoor place for security’s sake. Don't bring any bills that have any rips, as they won't be exchanged. Singles ($1 bills) are basically useless too. Different rates are often offered for different $ denominations. Other currencies are difficult. Credit cards are essentially useless. Cash is not really needed once you get to LuiKotal.

GETTING HERE
You'll be brought to the domestic airport early on the day of your internal flight. You'll sit there for a while. The flight is pretty cool - hopefully the weather will afford you a nice view over the forest. You'll probably stop en-route for refueling.

You arrive at the airstrip of a village called Ipope. That will be chaotic, with over a hundred locals turning up to greet the plane. Watch your own personal belongings, and let someone else deal with the rest. Porters carry everything to Lompole.

Lompole is about an hour's walk from Ipope, which itself is about 20 minute's walk from the airstrip. It's an easy route. In Lompole you'll be staying at Mara's. He's our main collaborator in the village. He's likely going to be getting on the plane to fly back to Kinshasa on the 17th, so Cintia you'll only be meeting him and his wife for a handshake. He may fly back to Ipope with you, Joel, if there's space.

There will be tents for you to sleep in on Mara's lawn. All of the plane's provisions go into a depot building for the night, also at Mara's. The tents might be really shitty, but it's just for one night. You'll probably be fed something the evening of your arrival, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to have something with you.

You might be fed coffee the following morning, and possibly papaya or avocado and maybe even some rice. I feel like there's never enough food in Lompole. Bring snacky things if possible. The morning after the flight will see dozens of people assembling at Mara's. Many are porters, many are just random hangers-on. Some are employees that aren't currently at camp. Danilo's the deaf kid in red and black that always smiles and wants to set up your tent and asks to keep whatever cool thing he sees you with. Everyone will be friendly with you, as newcomers, but Gottfried will surely be engaged in heated discussions with village elders and other people with some issue or other. Don't get involved. Cameras are fine, and the kids love getting photographed. Don't be shy with the cameras if you want to take photos. Just show them the little screen with their image on it afterwards, and they'll giggle with joy.

Depending on the number of porters, the plane stuff from the depot will be doled out and start getting transported to camp. This will happen anytime between 6am and 9am. I don't know who will be orchestrating this if Mara is off in Kinshasa, but it'll probably be Mama Mazeya. It may be Lambert. Lambert speaks really good French.

If there aren't enough porters, some stuff will stay in Lompole for undefined periods of time. Hopefully this doesn't apply to your personal luggage. You should try to make sure you actually see your things being carried off into the forest before you leave, or it just might not make it to camp on the same day as you. If a given bag is around 15kg, it has a good chance of getting carried. If it's over 20kg, it has a good chance of being left behind. Maybe there will be lots of porters when you arrive, but maybe not - I spent a couple of days at camp when I first arrived before most of my stuff joined me.

You can leave Lompole once you're ready to go (unless instructed otherwise). Again, plan your eating accordingly. The walk takes me about five hours, including the pirogue (dugout canoe) crossing. You leave the village via some agricultural fields, which offer the only point to get lost. Be with someone for that bit. Once you're in denser forest, there's only one trail - the main one. If you see tiny side trails, don't take them. The only place where you may get confused is if a treefall has altered the trail, in which case there's a newish detour. No worries.

Inevitably, there will be a whole team of people who will want to walk with you (or rather for you to walk with them), thinking that you'll get lost if you're alone. If you want this, go for it. But really, try to take advantage of the fact that it's such an easy trail to follow, and put at least two minutes between you and anyone else. Two minutes! That's all it really takes to feel some peace out there, instead of feeling someone on your heels. It takes some convincing to get the people to give you two minutes of space, but trust me, it's worth it.

After a bit more than an hour, you get to the first big savannah: Savane Bokapu (there's also a tiny stretch of savannah in between, with a really wide path where people write their names in the sand). It's about an hour across Bokapu, in the beating sun.

Then there's about 30 minutes of dense forest, with the first river crossing: the Lomenie. The deepest bit of channel is a good spot to refill your water bottle, so you don't need to carry a full one the whole way. It's also one of the best spots for a cool swim that I know of around here. There was a cool bongo skull on a tree just at that spot (though it may have been absconded with in the past month) - look behind you when you're at the swimmable spot of the channel. It's about waist-deep at the deepest spot.

The following savannah is called Savane Iaka, and is a bit less than an hour from one end to the other. At the far end is the seasonal fishing village of Iaka that Lompole's residents have populated for the past couple of months. Most will probably have left by the time you walk through, but some families will likely still be there. Take plenty of photos if you want - the kids love it. You'll probably meet an employee or two of our camp that introduce themselves to you, or at least some of their extended family. On the other hand, the place may be deserted. It is possible that you'll start the walk to camp on the same day you land, in which case you'll have to spend the night at Iaka.

At the other end of Iaka the trail goes down to the next river crossing: the Bompindji. The trail heads right from the lower end of Iaka, and into the forest. The bridges through this section are currently under repair, so it won't be quite as difficult to slog through by the time you cross. If the bridges are usable, the deepest bits will be about waist-deep. The final bridge is a sturdy one over a small channel, where it's a good idea to wash your feet off before continuing. A bit more mud follows, but you can put your shoes back on at this last bridge if you chose to do this way.

For both the Bompindji and the Lomenie, if you wonder which way to go just follow the most obvious path. You'll often see mud in suspension as evidence of the porters passing ahead of you.

There's about one more hour of forest hiking between the Bompindji and the Lokoro. You'll suddenly hit a section of trail that's really wide, which starts at the turnoff to the seasonal fishing village of Boele. When this really wide one turns suddenly to the left, and gets even wider, you need to follow the narrow forest path straight (the wide trail to the left goes to another fishing village called Bampfumbe). For the remainder of the walk to the Lokoro, bear right if in doubt, unless it's a deviation around a treefall (which will be obvious once you hit the tree).

At the Lokoro River, you'll need to wait your turn in the pirogue. Members of the research team take priority over porters - accept this and take the lift. Depending on the number of porters, there may be several crossings. The actual river crossing isn't very long, especially in that direction with the current, but then the pirogue navigates a smaller channel towards camp. Depending on the water level, the pirogue will have to discharge its load sooner or later. Again, you can expect nearly-waist-deep water from the point you get out, but it'll probably only be knee-deep or so. You've got perhaps 20 minutes more to walk, and you'll be with someone who knows the trail. We'll have some food ready for when you get here.

ACCOMMODATIONS
Each person gets their own 2/3-person tent to live in. Some are newer than others, but the main thing is that the zippers work. The tents are under roofs against the sun and rain, and everyone's got a little table to put their stuff on next to their tent. Bring your own mattress, pillow, and bedding. Remember that you’ll be living here long-term rather than just camping for the weekend, so bring a bed you’ll be comfortable sleeping in every night.

CLOTHING
We have laundry done by the local staff here about twice a week, so bring enough clothes to last about five days or so. Perhaps a couple more. Weather affects laundry being done, and affects it's drying. Everything gets really stained, whether you like it or not. The local staff will not wash women's underwear (or men's underwear that looks like women's underwear), so it's recommended for women to bring tons of pairs so they don't have to do their own washing as often.

Humidity is extreme here. It can take days for things to dry. Keep this in mind when choosing what clothing/fabrics to bring. The same goes for your towel and pillow.

Pants that zip off into shorts are great. Long-sleeve shirts are useful against evening insects and against scrapes in the forest. Bathing suits are useless, because there's nowhere to swim (and you'll be fully dressed in those places anyway). Rain pants are useless - quick-drying things are better.

Hats aren't that useful, unless you like the style. I wear a bandana at all times, but mostly because I've got too much hair. I find the bandanna good when working in the forest, because it catches the spider webs and branches and such. Sunglasses are pretty much useless - camp is the only place with direct sunlight, and we stay in the shade when it beats down.

The weather's almost always hot, so only one heavier layer will probably suffice. There's no need to ever dress up nice.

The threat of rain is omnipresent. If there's a downpour we don't bother going out in search of bonobos because we won't hear them. But if it's raining and we're already out, or if it's raining in the morning and the plan is to greet the bonobos at their nest, we generally just get drenched. Raincoats come in handy in such situations, more to keep warm when drenched rather than to avoid being drenched in the first place - bring a raincoat. We have two umbrellas for use at camp.

FOOTWEAR
This is the toughest thing to plan. For camp, a basic pair of sandals or flip flops is essential. You'll wear them nearly all of the time when at home. You may use some sort of sandal for walking the trails, depending on how comfortable or sturdy they are. For forest days though, plan on walking ten to twenty kilometres a day - you need happy feet.

A lot of our trails include stream crossings, and many include deep mud. Sandals get sucked off deep in the mud, so you end up going barefoot through those stretches anyway. Lighter shoes also get sucked off in the mud, but they don't carry around as much water when they're wet. Heavier boots don't necessarily get sucked off in the mud, but they're really heavy when wet and a pain to get little branches out of. Sneakers are a good bet for most of the time, as they can handle getting wet, they're not too heavy on the feet, and generally pretty comfortable. Heavy boots are also heavy when dry, so they're not that great for long days.

Your shoes will die while you're here, so bring a couple of pairs at least. They get wet, then you dry them in the sun, and then you repeat the process over and over until they're dead. Bringing a pair or two of spare insoles wouldn't be a bad idea.

Not all days include treks through mud or even through streams. Most don't, actually, but the possibility is always there. If you're following bonobos through the bush they like to drag you through swampy bits early so your feet get wet. Ok just kidding, but it's not unlikely. Fortunately, most of the terrain around here is relatively flat, with only a few steep bits across the whole study site.

For days when I know the terrain, I sometimes bring two sets of footwear: a dry pair of shoes with socks, and a pair of sandals. This is how I do the Lompole-LuiKotal walk, as well as a few other of our regular trails with stretches of mud and stretches of dry trail. It's up to you.

FUN
For fun around here, we follow bonobos around the forest. Ok, well at camp we've got a few other things, like reading books, lying in hammocks, and using the computer. There's a deck of cards, and I play rummy. There are three tennis balls for juggling or throwing back and forth. There's a frisbee, but we don't have enough space to throw it here. Same problem with the soccer ball. If you've got other great pastimes to share, perhaps they'll catch on here. Maybe bring an origami book. And spare paper.

There are two libraries (big metal boxes filled with reading materials): the scientific one and the leisure one. Our scientific library has plenty of photocopied articles on bonobos, chimpanzees, gorillas, and bonobos, and lots of books about bonobos, chimpanzees, and a few other random African creatures. Some of the books in there are owned by individual members of the field staff, while others will remain forever in the box. Some permanent fixtures are the field guides to African mammals, to East African reptiles (not very useful), and all of the bonobo/chimp compendiums. The Birds of Africa book and the behavioural guide to African mammals won't be here as long as you, but are still useful for a while.

The leisure library works similarly, though its permanent collection is pretty significant. Most books are in English, though there are several in German and a couple in French. They cover a variety of genres, so we can generally find something appealing when it's time. There are also a lot of magazines, though none very current. We'd love a few recent issues of some current-events magazines, particularly The Economist or something of similar stature (please not Newsweek or Time!), if either of you are able to pick any up.

If you've got particular ambitions for reading, bring those books. Be prepared to share. We read a lot here. It would be nice to get some more variety, though there really is a decent selection already.

Translation dictionaries include English-French, English-German, English-Lingala, and French-Lingala. The local language is called Kikundu, but the workers all speak Lingala too. I doubt a Kikundu dictionary even exists.

There will be two hammocks up when you arrive, with a great pair of trees for a third if you want to augment the collection. I may or may not take mine away with me when I leave in December - I'll decide then. We also have two chairs at camp - they sort of recline comfortably. Otherwise it's benches only.

There is no alcohol here. I repeat: There is no alcohol here. Get over it. I definitely recommend bringing a little stash of some sipping liquor, but I'll warn you right now it'll never be enough. Gottfried frowns on bringing liquor to camp, and suggests that whatever is consumed openly is shared with everybody, so keep your stash discreet. But really, the value of a couple of bottles should not be underestimated. Pick up some duty free on the way to Kinshasa, and try to get some while you're in town. From CAP, turn left out the gates, take your first left, and then take your first left. When you see the row of stalls on both sides, the one with glass walls on the left sells liquor for good prices. They accept single dollar bills.

If at all possible, please bring me a bottle of Grand Marnier! I'll pay you back, no problem. Please!!!

There are no mixers here, so alcohols that can't be consumed straight aren't too useful. Unless the mixers are water, milk (from powder), coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: those are our only drinks.

We do have cigarettes here, that are distributed free to all the smokers in camp at a rate of one per day. If you think you'll need to smoke more than one per day, please bring your own supply (you can still have the daily one though). The local Congolese brand that's most-smokable appears to be Tumbaco Legere. A carton of 10 packs should cost around $7 or $8 in Kinshasa.

If you want to smoke anything else, don't bring it. But do bring plenty of decent rolling papers. All we have here is tracing paper and leaves. Actually, could you please try to bring a few packs of rolling papers regardless? If you want to bring a narguihle and some flavoured tobacco, that would be classy and appreciated, though bulky. Bring a good supply of tofahtein. We'd use coals straight from the fire.

FOOD
We don't starve here, and that's the important thing. After that though, there's not a load of variety. It's fish, some green mushy vegetable stuff, a couple of tubers (potatoes, etc), and chikwanga (you'll see). Sometimes we eat beans or spaghetti, imported from Kinshasa. The only non-fish "meat" available here is corned beef. Breakfast is rice. There's plenty of coffee, tea, and Nesquik. A few fresh fruits are available - bananas are generally always at hand. We take little packs of biscuits to the forest for energy, or we eat them at camp when we're bored.

If you want anything else, bring it. I've still got a healthy stash of atomic fireballs that I enjoy every now and then, for example. If you're some sort of ingenious creative in the kitchen, bring some spices and go for it when you get here. Or just eat what you're given and enjoy your stash of indulgences when your spirit needs it.

You'll be flying in with our resupply loads of food. The next plane after your two will be in December sometime, so we're likely to run out of many things before getting more. Get over it. We won't starve - the menu will just get even more monotonous.

MEDICAL STUFF
Camp has some first aid supplies. If you have specific needs, bring it. It's a good idea to have a few basic painkillers and such. You'd better have insurance. In case of emergency, we can hook up the satphone and get your insurance to send a plane. It's about 27km to the airstrip though. Usually we just spend a week in camp getting better.

Malaria exists around here, and you're at risk whether you're taking prophylactics or not. For a while, I was the only one taking any (Larium), and then I got malaria. So now none of us takes prophylactics. Our defence against malaria is to treat it when we fall ill with it. I used Arsumax last time. This is generally accepted here as the best course of action. Otherwise you're ingesting some pretty harsh drugs on a regular basis, whose side effects can sometimes almost compare to the symptoms of malaria itself. You've got time here - if you fall ill you'll be out of commission for a week or two, and then you'll be fine. Yeah, your doctor somewhere may insist on the prophylaxis, but they're just going by the WHO book's recommendation anyway. (Finally, if you really insist on taking Larium, I've got nearly a year's supply I'd be happy to sell you!)

Multivitamins wouldn't be a bad plan, but I don't know if it really matters. Like I said, our diet is pretty basic, but I think we probably cover the majority of a body's needs.

You don't need sunscreen, because there's not much exposure to direct sunlight. Insect repellent is also pretty pointless - just tuck your pants into your socks and don’t impose the nasty odour on the rest of us.

TOILETRIES
We actually sell some basics here, so you don't need to bring a supply to last your entire stay. They're free for use by the research team, and sold cheap to the general population around here.

We sell toothpaste (Maxam) and toothbrushes (real basic things from Angola). We sell razor blades (although we'll run out soon if no more come in with your planes). Deodorant is up to you - it's not available here, and we don't bother with it much (don't worry, we don't smell). If you want long-term supplies of your own toiletries, bring them.

We have toilet paper. We do not have women's products and cannot get them - please plan accordingly.

If you wear contacts, bring enough kit for your whole time. If you wear glasses, a backup pair wouldn't be a bad idea (I didn't bring a spare pair, and haven't lost mine yet).

We have two shower stalls here, and we keep one bar of soap in each for the use of the research team. The other option for bathing is an ankle-deep stream about 400m from camp, where I prefer to go. I bring my own soap there, and use the camp soap when I shower here. If you don't care what soap you use, just rely on camp soap. Otherwise plan on bringing a big supply. Bring shampoo if you want to keep your hair.

I've gone the hairy route, with a big beard and a pony tail, while Andrew (a tough-looking Londoner) shaves his entire head every so often. Bring shaving cream if you want to follow his style, or shampoo if you like mine. Expect to need periodic trims during your stay, and accept that we're not professionals cutting each others' hair. I think I've been a pretty decent coiffeur when needed. Bring decent hair-cutting scissors if you're particular about that. Or use the Swiss-Army knife.

GEAR
Bring a little knife of some sort. They're always useful. Bring a good day pack for carrying water, some food, binoculars, etc. Don't bother with big long-distance frame packs, because you won't be hiking long distances with much gear. A smallish hip sack can be useful for days when you don't need to carry much gear, and for giving your back a rest sometimes.

If you want to spend nights in the forest away from camp, we have a few (crappy) spare tents that can do the trick. Bring your own tent if you want, but it won't get much use. Actually, it'll probably just get worn out.

We do have one satellite camp set up (called Badzungu), with a tent, a couple of mattresses, and a few basic provisions. Andrew brought a basic alcohol-burning camping stove that's big enough to boil water for tea, or for one bowl of rice. We cull the alcohol from tubes that held shit samples, after removing the shit. If you think you might want to use the satellite camp much, a better camping stove would be the most useful piece of gear for that. It's really hard to light a fire around here - the stove is so much easier. You'll have to find fuel in Kinshasa though - we have a limited gasoline supply at camp, if the stove can burn it.

Bring a good headlamp, or maybe a couple. It will be a permanent fixture on your head. We have a supply of AAA batteries that keep our headlamps lit. If you bring anything else requiring batteries, bring the right batteries. Our camp recharger handles AAs and AAAs only.

Bring a watch. Waterproof, with the date, an alarm, and preferably even the day of the week. If you won't wake up to the watch alarm in the middle of the night, bring a separate alarm clock that will wake you up. Good bonobo days often start before 4am.

Camp has four pairs of good binoculars (10x42). These are shared among whoever needs them in the forest on a given day. It's generally enough. Camp has two good GPS units (Garmin GPS60Csx). Bring your own if you want, but once you use one of the good ones you probably won't bother with your own any more unless it's of similar quality.

Camp has plenty of compasses. There are a number of cicateurs (garden snips) that are our essential tools for cutting through the bush, though they eventually get worn out or lost. Don't bother bringing a machete.

Camp has some basic tools for fixing stuff. There are only a couple of sewing needles. Unless you have specific goals, you probably won't need specific tools. Ask me for specifics if you need.

If you want to conduct a study that involves specialised equipment or materials, you'd better be sure that everything is available for you. That means bring it yourself, or confirm with someone on the ground here that your supplies will be here. If you get here and some essential tool is missing, you can't do your work.

We've got a small supply of field notebooks for the work we do. If you want a particular type, bring your own. Our paper supply at camp has been an issue in the past, but we've currently got a reasonable amount. We have pens and markers.

THE COMPUTER(S)
There's currently one laptop, though hopefully Gottfried will bring a second one. If you want to bring your own, go for it, but be forewarned that it might die out here, and that our power capabilities are limited. We have four solar panels that charge three big batteries, off of which we charge our flashlight batteries and computer batteries. Basically, we can plug the computer in during the daylight, and use it until its batteries die when the sun's not beating down. The big batteries don't have enough juice to really charge much at night, but they power a few light bulbs. We have a gasoline-powered generator for really rainy days when we need power. Plugs are European and American.

The computer we currently have has almost no hard drive space left, so please don't rely on it to store your photos or music. There's not much fancy software on it either, nor much room to install new stuff. Feel free to bring new software if you want, but be forewarned that it just might not fit. I have no idea if, assuming Gottfried is bringing a new laptop, the other computer will be any better or what, so I'll just explain this one's capabilities.

It has a DVD reader, but not a DVD writer (as far as I can tell). It does burn CDs, but since the hard drive is full it's tough to get enough buffering space (or whatever the reason). I've succeeded in burning a few data CDs though, so if necessary it can probably be done again. Bring an adequate quantity of blank CDs. Bring a USB stick to hold personal documents that you want to access and manipulate regularly.

There is a basic deskjet printer for occasional use. It's running low on ink though, so unless Gottfried brings more it'll be rendered useless pretty soon. Don't rely on our printer for big documents - bring them with you already printed. But it's a useful tool sometimes.

Since the computer can read DVDs, bring some along! Gottfried discourages it, for reasons of cultural sensitivity, but we're starved for that sort of thing here. Don't tell him you're bringing them and he won't object. We just may need to be discreet about the viewings, depending on the content - our local staff will undoubtedly want to watch. (I once went to Lompole and it seemed like literally the entire village turned out for the event: a TV and VCR showed Jean-Claude van Damme's "Bloodsport", half of an old soccer game, and some booty-shakin' Congolese music videos - "Werrason". Ridiculous!)

I highly recommend also bringing a CD or two of personal photos. You can look at them whenever you want, and you can show stuff off to others here when you want.

EMAIL
This is currently our email address. We're not getting spam these days, but the last address had to be abandoned because of the spam. We get our email by logging on to the eva.mpg.de server in Leipzig via a satellite receiver. In general, this is done twice a week (Mondays and Thursdays), though it can be more or less frequent depending on the need. The connection process isn't that difficult, and is almost always successful - it usually takes between 20 and 30 minutes from start to finish for the whole protocol.

We can only deal in straight text emails - no attachments. In theory, 20kb is the limit for any given email, though sometimes they're bigger (like this one!) Attachments just crash the connection though, so please forewarn any of your friends and family that may write you here.

There's only one email address for the camp, so emails aren't entirely private. We add initials of the individual sending the message to make it clear who each email can be attributed to. "(MPI)" refers to all project emails. You two will be (CG) and (JG), as far as I can tell. It would be useful to tell your friends and family to put your name or initials in the subject as well - this avoids the need for me to skim through the message to attribute it to someone.

As of right now, I am under the impression that we don't pay for our personal emails. Nonetheless, I've been keeping very detailed records of who's using how many kilobytes, so if Gottfried really wants to know such details he can make a well-informed decision.

With the satellite connection, it's also possible to make voice calls. These are around €1/minute, depending on the destination country, and we don't make them much. These are much easier to attribute to individuals, so I'm not sure if we do or do not pay for them ourselves. I just know that Gottfried has given us the total costs for various personal calls made, and I told him who made each one. I get the impression that if we keep it reasonable, and don't abuse this capability, the costs will be covered by the project, but if it gets out of hand then everyone will have to start paying. I don't really care either way - phone calls are to be limited to exceptional circumstances out here. There is no mobile phone service here, though I was able to use my Canadian phone in Kinshasa.

It is not possible to connect to the internet in any way. You will not be able to access your yahoo accounts, or anything else that requires internet access. Don't forward those accounts to this address, because the volume will crash our connections. I know that for my hotmail account, I paid $20 or so to have it remain in existence for a year despite a lack of activity - I hope it works! If you don't have a personal secretary able to log on to your personal email accounts periodically, you may want to look into this sort of thing too. Or just get someone to sift through your emails and forward you any that seem important - just be sure to keep the kilobytes down!

Before leaving, log onto your email and print out your entire address book. Bring it. Bring important phone numbers too.

CAMERAS
It's nice to be able to take photos, but often less satisfying than foreseen. Most of the photos we take here are of each other. A simple snapshot camera does the trick for that. It's helpful to have something pocket-sized for easy access at a moment's notice, because most animals you see will only stay in sight for that moment. For that, I like my little digital one that I keep in a belt-mounted pouch.

For good wildlife photography, a fancier camera may be useful, but it still has limitations. The forest offers very difficult conditions for lighting and for visibility, while the wildlife itself usually disappears before you even take the lens cap off. Most of my successful wildlife shots are macros of insects and fungi, since they cooperate.

As for photographing the bonobos, even renowned wildlife photographer Frans de Waal laments that "in a tropical forest the light level is so low, with harsh highlights and deep shadows, that it's hard to take good pictures. Add to this the fact that the apes are black, and their eyes dark, and it becomes clear that the photographic challenge was formidable..." This is not to say that it's not possible to get good bonobo photos here, just that good bonobo photography days are few and far between. Cintia, your position will probably afford the best opportunities for bonobo photography, if that's what you're into. I hope you have at least a 300mm lens! Over time, you'll hopefully get some amazing shots. If you plan on carrying your camera gear through the forest a lot, bring the right cases and such - it rains a lot, and you'll constantly be bumping into branches, vines, and so on.

There's one tripod at camp that still has its foot thing that attaches to the camera. Two other tripods are missing that essential element. They're heavy, but durable. I like shooting with a tripod in the forest because of the low light levels, but it's not a vital piece of equipment.

MUSIC
There is one camp radio, which the workers generally have going from 6am onwards. We somehow get reception for Radio Okapi, Voix d'Amérique, BBC, and who knows what else. I guess it's shortwave, but I don't really pay attention. If you want to keep in touch with world events, it's your only hope, really.

A couple of our workers own cassette decks, which they bring to camp for some added drama upon arrival. They play the same cassette over and over and over and over and over for days on end, with the batteries dying and the sound getting so drawn out until the batteries finally die and they put them in the sun to recharge and then the tape gets played over and over and over and over again. It's sort of annoying, actually. If you have cassettes, bring them. They will be much appreciated by everyone concerned, and you'll get to hear your old music in a new way when the batteries keep dying.

We all have our own mp3 players and headphones, and when they're on our heads that means "don't bother me right now". Again, there's not much space on the computer for storing music, although it can facilitate the exchange of music between our various players. Try to bring a decent variety - it's all you'll have for a while (aside from that Werrason cassette the workers bring).

I have a small set of minispeakers, which makes a big difference here. I will be taking them with me in mid-December, so if you want any music louder than the laptop speakers, bring more minispeakers. Don't rely on the camp's collection of batteries for your personal electronics - bring your own. Bring all the cables you need.

There are no instruments here, but the workers often sing. I think it's one of the requirements for the cooks, actually. If you can handle it, bring your didgeridoo.

SUMMARY
OK now you've got pages and pages of advice on what to expect, and how to plan. In short though, here are the vital things you need to bring:

Passport with visa
Bedding, pillow
Mattress
Enough clothes for about five days
Towel
Sandals, forest shoes
Something to read
Grand Marnier
The latest Economist magazine
Painkillers
Shampoo or shaving cream
Daypack
Water bottle
Watch
Headlamp
USB stick
Blank CDs
A CD of personal photos
Mp3 player and headphones

Beyond those basics, you've got a good description of what to expect in order to plan accordingly. Just remember that it's impossible to get anything else here, so be prepared to just do without anything you forgot.

If you're wondering about anything else specific, write back and ask. Remember the inherent delays with our email access here though. Otherwise, I'm sure you'll handle the preparations well, and that your stay here will be as smooth as stays here can be.

Good luck with your final preparations, and have a good voyage. See you soon!

Ryan à LuiKotal

(RM) The Man burns at LuiKotal

The Man burns at LuiKotal

Saturday, 1 September 2007

The past week has been a tough one for me. I've had the Burning Man blues. The Burning Man festival took place from Monday the 27th of August, ending on Monday, the 3rd of September. A community of over 30,000 like-minded souls created an ephemeral metropolis in the heart of the Nevadan desert - the playa - making Black Rock City their Home for the week. I, however, have spent the week in a little clearing in the middle of the jungle: I didn't get to go Home this year!!!

For the uninitiated, you probably have little notion as to what exactly the fuss is about. "So what, you can go next year, can't you?" Yeah, yeah - no problem. I will undoubtedly be there next year. But I missed it this year, dammit! And for that I'm disappointed.

On the other hand, it's partly because of my experience with Burning Man that I find myself currently living at LuiKotal Camp: both require enormous amounts of planning, organisation, patience, and just general wherewithal, and that's simply in order to survive. Anything beyond mere survival calls for even more creativity, both for increased comfort and to have more fun at it. Fortunately, I've still been able to (ok, forced to) rely on these attributes on a regular basis here. I think the BM buzzword of "extreme self-reliance" captures this philosophy well: be responsible for yourself, use the resources at hand to address challenges, get creative...

I wrote a good example of this a couple of months ago in an unposted entry, describing how I repaired our camp's mortar: it's made of a log standing on end, about two feet high, hollowed out at the top to give the basin of the mortar for preparing various local dishes. The wood's been through a lot, and about a month ago a chunk of the side of the mortar broke off. The basin has been very inconvenient to use since then, but I've asked our cooks to prepare meals that require its use nearly every day. Ordering a new one from the village has proved entirely ineffective, as have been the cooks' complaints, until today. I repaired it using an empty can of Nesquik, a pair of garden snips, some pliers, a file, and some metal wire. Of that, the Congolese guys actually seemed genuinely impressed. Bonne idee! [Note: we have since gotten a new mortar, imported from Kinshasa, that is much bigger and stronger than the original. My Nesquik-repaired one, however, is still used periodically for preparing smaller things like chili-pepper salt!]

This is the sort of improvisation that's necessary here. LuiKotal camp is, in the relative sense, well-endowed with Useful Stuff to accomplish things, as compared with the rest of the region the Congolese guys know. We have the logistical wherewithal to procure things we need from elsewhere in the world, and to store and maintain them for use when the need arises. But at any given moment, camp's supplies are definitely finite. So although I might know that a given task might be accomplished better or more easily using some familiar tool or ingredient, there's literally no option to do so. It's necessary to simply make do with what's here, and devise some other solution. The national slogan of the Congolese is basically "se debrouiller", which translates roughly to "make do" or "get by" with what you've got. My mantra has basically been "we do what we can here", and indeed we do.

One of the things I do have here is an mp3 player with a bunch of burncasts on it. These are individual broadcasts that I downloaded from the internet in Arizona, each touching on a different theme relating to BM culture. I've listened to many of them on a couple of occasions, hearing, among other things, an interactive fire pendulum in action, some "sweet jumps" over flames by bikes and go-peds, various artists describing their installations, the cheering crowd around the "Burninator", the "Cloud Nine" art car creator discussing his project, an analysis of burner fashion (tutus, prom dresses, electroluminscent-wire cowboy hats, etc), and even Arizona's own Ranger Blank explaining how he got his playa name. Yeah, although I'm not there, I can still sort of participate in the overall community.

Although the weeklong event in northwest Nevada comprises the main international gathering of the world's burners, there are actually smaller regional events put on by local communities throughout the rest of the year. (South Africa hosts the only regional burn on the continent.) Last year I participated in two regional burns, in Arizona and in Utah. Arizona's was in the spring - the first of several long weekends on which I used my precious vacation days from work for festival fun. My proudest moments there were sometime in the middle of the first night, as I mixed music on my CD turntables for chilled out burners in the hangar, and again approaching dawn when I spun another set before finally stopping for my first sleep time of the weekend. I enjoyed helping Blaze set up the fire cannons, I let loose dancing to Nuttea on the rooftop platform of Mr God's Caddywhack, and I zoned out at sunrise at the base of the Toaster entranced in the tones of J's crystal bowls - the Toaster being a 12-foot steel fire sculpture built with love by countless Arizona burners.

For last year's burn in Nevada, I wrangled up four close friends to create a camp with. We assembled in Arizona, where the others all met for the first time, and we spent an amazing week together living in our humble "Campus Minimus" in the 9:15 and Destiny neighbourhood of Black Rock City. Jeff was the first to arrive in AZ, spending over a month of his year-long road trip at my house so we could work on preparations together. In the week before we hit the road, Lisa flew in from Montreal, and Steve flew in from Brooklyn (his girlfriend Ellie met up with us mid-week). Although Marco was ostensibly living in Arizona at the time, he was the last to join our posse, flying in from Bangkok the night before we left. To add to the madness, my little sister, my mother, and my grandmother also all came for an Arizona visit that same pre-playa week, bearing witness to the hilarity of all the costumes, food, bicycles, flashy-blinkies, and so on that littered the entire house. Marco and I had built a huge Adirondack chair as our camp's main art piece, while Jeff and I built a big dome tent (actually, it was a hexayurt) that served as our group's chill-out space for the week. At around midnight the night before our departure, we bought an RV that took us and all of our gear to BM and back (my grandmother was too freaked out that we'd be cruising a few thousand miles in it to even see us off the next day).

Needless to say, the week we actually spent at the festival was quite an experience, in addition to all of the effort involved both before and after the event itself. So, needless to say, I've really been missing all of that this year!

The culmination of the weeklong Burning Man festival is on Saturday evening, when The Man burns. The Man is the centrepiece of Black Rock City, serving as an icon of the community as well as a landmark for getting one's bearings. It's over 60-feet high, built of wood and standing on a massive base, all decked out in art and flashy lights and what-not. By Saturday evening, the City's population swells to over 40,000 people, nearly all of whom surround The Man to watch the mothafucka burn. BURN! It's filled with fireworks and other flashy sparkly effects, but mostly just huge-ass flames. Damn. We watch, we yell, we cheer, and once The Man topples, we rush the pyre and revel in the climax of another year's successful burn. And no, The Man doesn't have some assigned significance - take it to symbolise whatever you want it to.

Anyway (in case I didn't mention it already) I missed that again this year, since I currently live in one of the most-remote places on the planet. For me, Saturday saw the climax of my Burning Man blues, as I shuffled around camp trying to explain the significance of the day to my campmates... when I decided to try hosting a burn here!

I spent about four hours on my creation, with my only tool being a pair of old metal scissors. I didn't have to cut down any trees, because some furniture had been repaired recently and the old sticks had been discarded at the edge of camp. Several of the longer sticks had been part of a bench, while some of the shorter ones were part of a collapsed chair. The chair had been lashed together with plenty of good lianas, which I used to lash the various sticks together in their new-and-improved configuration. The Man eventually stood strong at about eight feet high. For flammable material, I used some extra roofing materials that were never needed - a pile of frond-like leaves called ndua that are generally placed along the apex of a roof for rainproofing. I wove them into the body, head, and legs of the Man, and held them in place with more lianas, while I wrapped some bundles onto the arms.

I did all this in a small clearing (the forest office) just adjacent to the main camp, with just enough space to spread The Man on the ground. I carried it carefully into camp shortly after dark, to the surprise of our four local workers and our Kinshasan campmate (the two other Western researchers had been visiting me in the forest office to monitor my progress). I set it up in a good spot, away from the palm-frond-roofs and the solar panels. With a bit of help, we I stabilised the legs, added some final ndua (tinder), and deemed it complete. To get in the spirit, I had been wearing devil ears for most of the day, so at that point I got out a couple of other costumes: glittery goggles and a furry dog hat (see professionalnomad.com for my self-portrait in that hat). Then I doused The Man with a bit of gasoline and set it aflame!

My Burning Man blues were cured that night. I got to watch and yell and cheer, and I got to wear a silly hat. Sure, the actual flames didn't last long, and none of The Man's structure even burned through, but the spirit was here in force. The workers may have been puzzled, but they also appreciated "la ceremonie", while my colleagues got a better understanding of what I'd been going on about over the previous days. And we even get to keep The (charred) Man as an enduring art piece to decorate our camp.

The first LuiKotal regional burn was a success!


)(

(RM) The New Yorker

The New Yorker Magazine

Thursday, 19 July 2007

This is just a quick note to get people to buy the upcoming issue of the New Yorker. As I mentioned in my last entry, a writer for the magazine came to LuiKotal the same time as I did. Ian Parker stayed here for about three weeks to get a feel for the bonobo work we do, and to better understand bonobos in general. In addition to what he learned from us, I'm sure he also did additional legwork to have a broad picture of the species.

The article is now complete. About a week ago, the fact-checker for the magazine emailed us to verify a few things, and said it would be going to press today, the 19th of July. I assume, therefore, that the issue in question will be on newsstands very soon: probably Monday the 23rd. If not then, it should be in the following issue.

Soooo... I encourage anyone who's interested to go and get that issue of the New Yorker. Ian's story will surely give a decent portrait of the species, and probably also of the rigours of life here in the forest. Hopefully, any mention of me will be positive!

Again, any feedback on Ian's writing or on mine would be appreciated here:)

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Update:

The article came out on June 30th. It's really long.

There's also a response by Frans de Waal, debunking some of Ian's facts.

Basically, the article is nice prose, but not to be taken as a reference into the science of bonobos.

(RM) Everyday stories

Everyday stories

Saturday, 14 July 2007 (Bastille Day and my mom's birthday - Happy Birthday Mom!)

I haven't been posting to this blog much lately. Sorry. Times are different these days at LuiKotal, and I really haven't had the opportunity to write the same sorts of entries as I did for my first couple of months here. I thought I ought to at least post some stories eventually, so now I'll just recount a number of little anecdotes that compose my daily life here. This entry, therefore, will follow more a stream of consciouness rather than describing a particular subject. Hopefully I'll be able to convey a sense of life here, in general, with a sampling of random imagery of LuiKotal.

CAMP NATIONALITIES
Camp now has six researchers from six countries: an American/Canadian (me - ok, so there are seven countries represented), a Brit, a German, a Swiss, an Austrian, and a Congolese. Two more Congolese will join us in a few days, staying for the next month. The German leaves regularly for multi-day trips in the region, and one of the incoming Congolese researchers will actually be spending the majority of her time in the village. Nonetheless, the research team at camp will fluctuate between six and eight people for the next month.

CAMP LANGUAGES
Langagues float around camp even more. When the whole research team is together, we use English. But smaller groups variously break into French and German, or generally a combination of two or three (my rusty German has improved a lot since I've been in Congo). We also use a smattering of Lingala terms for local things (mostly foods, animals, and trees), and have a few choice Lingala expressions we throw around regularly (malamu mingi mingi! = that's great!). Lingala has been the main national unifying language of the Congo for the last several decades, so the current generation of Congolese has mostly learned it as they progressed through school. The Congolese researchers here communicate with the local staff in Lingala, and foreigners that want to also learn Lingala to communicate better with the staff. I haven't learned much Lingala yet, so I mainly use French. French is the colonial language of the country, so most people here have at least a basic vocabulary in it. A few actually speak it quite well, and I often recruit those individuals to help interpret more-complicated subjects with the others. The local language of the region is Kikundu. When the workers speak among themselves, they mostly use Kikundu, although I often hear words of Lingala or French mixed in. Kikundu sounds like quite a different language than Lingala, though they're both among the bantu family. The other main languages of the Congo are Chiluba, Kikongo, and Swahili, all bantu tongues. The Congolese researcher also speaks Chiluba (of his native region) and Swahili. Swahili is becoming more of a widespread language of the country, as the leadership for the past decade or so has been from the east, where Swahili is dominant. (Many western Congolese view Kabila with contempt because of his eastern roots: he spent much of his life in Rwanda and Tanzania, and has yet to really master Lingala.) At least one of the workers speaks Portuguese, as he lived in Angola for some time, and a few can say a few English words proudly. Among the research team, we also have speakers of Spanish, Italian, and Hausa (Andrew, the Brit, lived for about 7 years in Nigeria). One of the incoming Congolese also speaks German. And in September we get a Hungarian volunteer... I'm quite impressed to be living in such a polyglot camp, especially since our total population seldom exceeds about a dozen people!

THE NEW LONG TENT HOUSE
Last month we got a new building built. The old building in that spot was still standing, but the roof leaked a lot and many of the structural members were on the verge of failure. We got the best construction guy of the village (Biebis) to spend nearly a month out here with one helper (Mopila), and they did a fine job. The building in question is actually a long roof over four tents. The vertical structural members are big tree stems, as are the main lengthwise horizontal roof supports. The latticework supporting the roof tiles is composed of smaller tree trunks, and the roof tiles themselves are made of palm leaf strips strung over bamboo strips and pinned in place with liana vines. The apex of the roof, where the two slopes meet, is covered with fronds of another palm species, weighted down with heavyish tree stems broken in the middle. There are no walls. The components of the structure are all lashed together with liana vines: there's not one piece of metal or pre-fabricated wood at all, just local materials hewn from the surrounding environment. The construction team also repaired a number of other leaky roofs (more palm tiles), a lot of other vertical supports (more tree stems), and a couple of bowing horizontal supports.

BARN-RAISING THE LAB HOUSE
During the time Biebis and Mopila were here, I also got another member of our staff, Mangos, to try repairing a different building. One of the roof's horizontal support beams had fallen off of one of its three vertical support posts, so the roof was no longer quite stable. All I wanted was for him to replace the vertical support so it could hold the horizontal beam. The building in question serves as Gaby's laboratory (he is the Congolese researcher) for chemical analyses of leaves, fruits and flowers, and is down a short path from camp. Later that morning, we heard Mangos yelling, so I called for everyone else in camp to run and help him. Sure enough, the entire building had collapsed, pivoting at the base of the remaining vertical posts so the roof came precariously to rest about a man's height away. He was fine, as was my tent, which I had put there while recovering from malaria to have a place away from the main camp to retreat to. Mangos's job for the rest of that day was to cut eight more vertical posts from the forest, so that we could put the roof back up the following day. The next day, we had what I called 'a good old-fashioned barn-raising', with everyone at camp recruited to either lift the roof sections (it was split down the apex to facilitate the task) or guide them into the newly placed vertical posts. New palm fronds were added to the roof's apex later in the week, and the building is again as good as new!

GRIT'S TRIPS
Grit (the German) is one of the two researchers who came in on the last plane, in late May. Her project sure seems cool to me, as it involves making exploratory trips to nearby forests in search of neighbouring bonobo communities. Bonobos, in contrast to chimpanzees, form groups where the males are all generally related and the females migrate to other communities once they reach adulthood. Grit aims to collect fecal samples from numerous communities of the region, in order to do DNA analyses and determine genetic relationships of the bonobos. I've been involved, with the other researchers here, in collecting samples from our habituated bonobos. She left for her fourth voyage this morning, to Ntoka. The first two trips were to places that are relatively known by our team already, as we pass through them for our own work: Bompusa and Bompindji. The third trip was past our regular range, to Bolungwa Alunga. She collected samples so far from the Bompusa and Bolungwa Alunga trips, as well as from our habituated community and another to its west. I find it to be quite an ambitious study for anyone to undertake, and hope she manages to collect samples from several other sites. It's a good challenge to help facilitate such voyages.

CHIKWANGA SHORTAGE!
The local staff complained to me today, as I gave priority to the departing team for taking our current local food supply. Chikwanga is the local staple, and Team Grit took 20 logs! Only 10 remained, to last 5 workers and 5 researchers two full days until the next food transport arrives. We've got plenty of fresh potatoes, plenty of ripe plantains, and a decent quantity of dried beans in the depot, not to mention several kilos of fresh fish and generous reserves of recently-smoked fish. So we won't starve. For the workers, though, a meal without kwanga just isn't a meal. Tough. We'll have a new supply in two days.

IMPORTED FOOD SHORTAGE
Our other reserves have been dwindling steadily for quite some time already. One of my duties here as camp manager is to monitor and maintain our imported provisions, and to estimate and order the right quantities when we have a plane come in. This is a very difficult job, especially considering the unpredictability of everything here. With the last plane's arrival, I had estimated our needs for about one month, since another plane was foreseen in June. That plane was cancelled, though, so we're really getting low on many things. The incoming plane is also the smallest model, with a very limited capacity, so I've had to get a list together to provision us for one more month without exceeding perhaps 100kg. We've already run out of Nesquik, Lipton Tea, and Nescafe, and we've got only about one or two mornings-worth of rice left. You may laugh that we lament the lack of these 'luxury' drinks, but other than that it's water - these comforts are greatly appreciated.

LOMPOLE
I'm going to Lompole again in a couple of days. The last time I went, I fell ill and ended up spending the following week at camp in bed with malaria. The trip was also pretty damn stressful, as I was obliged to hold a lot of discussions with different people in the village. Since I'm the administrateur of the LuiKotal camp, which constitutes the sole source of paid employment available to the residents of Lompole and the surrounding villages, everyone's got something to say. This trip will therefore be limited to 36 hours, including two nights. The day of the plane will obviously be very filled with work obligations, but the brevity of my stay will at least circumscribe those annoying discussions to a clearly finite period. The trip will also understate my role as an active administrator of the LuiKotal project, while allowing me a little break (however stressful) from the everyday of LuiKotal Camp itself.

THE COMPUTER(S)
One of the provisions I look forward to from the plane is a new laptop. For my first couple of months here, we had two functioning laptops for the use of the research team. The bonobos' location was also known on nearly a daily basis, so the majority of the research team was out in the forest on most days working on habituation. The bonobos were much more elusive thoughout late May and all of June, so more of the team was at camp more of the time. The result, with respect to the computer, has been almost-constant use of the remaining laptop during the daylight hours (since we rely on solar panels for power, computer time is over once the battery is dead in the evening). Depending on my work demands in the coming month, I'll hopefully be able to devote more of my computer time to personal ends. On the other hand, I spend so much time in front of the computer for work, that I often need a good break from it afterwards. I make no promises for upcoming entries!

SISTEBOL THE FISHERMAN
Sistebol is our current fisherman at camp. We always have one fisherman who stays with us, who doesn't receive a daily salary but who gets food and a cigarette with us every day, and is provided with a decent supply of camp-owned fish hooks and nets. We buy all the fish he catches, and everyone eats a decent quantity of fresh fish. The dry season started about three or four weeks ago, with only a milimeter or two of rain registered since around mid-June. This is the best fishing season, so Sistebol has been bringing back loads of fresh fish. We eat well, and smoke the surplus, so we now also have a respectable reserve for unlucky days. A good meal will include fresh fish prepared in two or three ways, smoked fish, and some freshly smoked fish that's only been over the fire for a couple of days. My favourite is the freshly smoked variety, which is tough and meaty - it's not to the point of becoming fish jerky, like the smoked fish, while most of the bones have softened enough to chew and swallow, unlike the fresh ones. I find that eating many of the fresh fish is comparable to eating a pile of needles.

BYCATCH
Twice since he's been with us, Sistebol has brought back other creatures that have become stuck in his nets. The first was a monitor lizard, perhaps almost a metre long from nose to tail. It's scales were primarily deep black, with a beautiful neon yellow pattern of stripes and dots for the whole length. It's been smoking over the fire ever since: I find it amusing to pick it up by its tail as it holds its long form lengthwise. The other bycatch was another crocodile. It's at least the fourth one since I've been here, so I didn't even go examine it this time. I saw the kitchen staff playing with it as it hung from their roof - holding its head and tail up to demonstrate its length. Pretty long. They split it open along its stomach, pinning the skin open to roast over the fire. Since I don't buy bycatch, the workers ate it amongst themselves and we got all the fresh fish that day.

GRIT'S SNAKE
We don't see snakes in camp much, but when we do we kill them. There are so many species around here, and who really knows which are poisonous or not, so to protect LuiKotal's inhabitants we have a policy of killing any snake that visits camp. Last week Grit was laying down on the bench at our table, as a beautiful snake slithered over her knees. She yelped to me but kept still, and the snake just continued up the bench and into the palm-frond roof. The cooks rushed over with machetes and quickly beheaded it, and Grit's heartbeat eventually returned to normal. The closest guess we have, as to its species, is a vine snake. While not deadly, the bit is nonetheless poisonous. Drama!

THE BONOBOS
For the past couple of weeks, our team has been with the bonobos pretty much every single day. The behaviour of our habituated community has been to travel a big loop throughout the day, stopping at a variety of specific fruit trees along the way. After being followed for most of the day, they have generally nested within a kilometre or so of where they started. When they're lost, waiting at a few known trees are good bets to find them again. I spent a day out with them a week or so ago, and got to observe a few bonobos at very close range sharing a boimbe fruit on the ground under one such tree. Unfortunately, the understorey was so dense I didn't get a very clear sightline, but Caro (the Austrian) spent some observation time with them under the same tree the following day. Of bonobos in the wild, she shot what are probably many of the best photos in existence. I'm jealous.

JUNE'S RANGE
June was a bad month for bonobo observations, as they managed to elude our team for numerous days at a time. The only way to find them again is to spend a lot of time out in the forest, covering a lot of ground to listen for their calls and look for their traces (feeding remains, recent nests, footprints in muddy areas, etc). The group was finally located on a regular basis further than they had ever been tracked before. They may well have been spending time there since research here began, but that area of our study site had been pretty much beyond the reasonable limits of where we can walk to and from in a day. The closest that a researcher could reach by trail was about 9 or 10 kilometres from camp, which was still several kilometres through dense bush from the bonobos. Getting to and from camp and the bonobos each day therefore involved three to four hours of hiking each way, much of which involved cutting through uncharted forest. An equivalent commute, in my comparison, would be to go from NY to DC each morning and evening, or from Amsterdam to Lyon. Ridiculous. To consecrate seven to eight hours of the day just getting to and from work, and then be expected to follow bonobos for 12 hours from dawn to dusk, was a ridiculous prospect. Thank goodness they've migrated northwards lately!

BADZUNGU CAMP
In order to chop around an hour and a half from the one-way commute, a tent has now been placed in the forest near the Badzungu stream. It's an easy shot from camp, down a dry, level trail. We established a system so that one person who did those long days would stay a night or two there, while others in camp would have rendez-vous and food drops to facilitate the stay. It hasn't been used too much, but the Badzungu camp is a now welcome tool in our bonobo-following arsenal.

MY VACATION
I used the Badzungu camp once to just take a little vacation from camp - it was nice to be so alone. Since I spend most of my time within the confines of LuiKotal Camp, and there are almost always at least a few people here with me: I'm almost never alone. Ah, solitude! It was great to be about 7km from the nearest human, in the middle of dense forest at night and in the morning. The darkness was so dark at night. I made espresso in the morning and sat on a log over the stream to drink it. Sweet! It was pretty frustrating (I hardly managed to get a fire going in the evening before the downpour began), and not necessarily comfortable (the ground wasn't exactly flat under the tent), but the break was nonetheless quite welcome. I've been making regular trips into the forest lately, without necessarily intending to do any research, simply to get out of camp and assuage my psyche.

THE VINE SWING
About a month ago, I noticed a long vine hanging over a big treefall near our main trail. It was probably about 20m in length, and swung over a dense tangle of fallen trunks and branches. Along its main swinging axis, though, was a fallen tree trunk, which even had a protruding branch going upwards at the point where the vine would swing in its arc. So a swing could be initiated by walking the length of the fallen trunk, and even by climbing up the protruding branch. I visited the vine swing several times, swinging from the higher branch like Tarzan. Oh what fun can be had in the forest! One afternoon I invited one of our cooks, Djoli, who had a couple of hours without cooking to do, to join me for some vine swinging. We hiked the 3km there and I did some huge swings that he filmed on my digicam. He took a turn and did a less-daring swing, but then liked it and asked me to film a second swing. As he jumped to swing though, the vine snapped and he fell off the log and into the tangled branches. His leg bled a lot, and he was pretty flustered, but it wasn't serious. When he regained his composure the first thing he asked for was to see the video. My camera's delay is so long though, that the only footage I got was of my knee as I ran over to help him. He came back to camp yesterday and showed me how his wound healed - he'll have a scar.

NEW TRAILS
One big job I did lately was to mark a new trail. Given that the bonobos have demonstrated their range to be well beyond our existing trail network, we have been extending the network over the past few weeks. By trail, it is now possible to hike about 14km from camp: the Meike-5 trail has been extended from 3km to 5km, the Venty trail was lengthened from 1km to around 4.5km, and the Tim trail now connects Meike-5 and Venty, having been extended from 700m to 2.5km. Not only has the trail cutting been tough work, but the commute to and from the existing trail ends was several hours alone. I commend all of the men who contributed to the job.

TRAIL FLAGGING
I decided to contribute by marking one of the new trails: Tim. In order to assist the users of these trails to maintain their bearings, trail markers are placed at every 50m with the trail name and the distance. Tim's trailhead is about 8km from camp, and the trail's latter 1.8km is very roughly-hewn. It was a long, hard day! I measured the distance with a waist-mounted counter that works by unwinding a long, thin thread. I had to change the spool twice over 2.5km, and it was quite a pain just to pick up the used thread on the way back (mostly in the dark). The flags will tie easily to thin trees, but of course any trees thinner than the handle of a baseball bat had been chopped to create the trail, and the tags wouldn't really reach around the remaining trees. Attaching a loop of string first was a pain, and I certainly didn't do it on as many trees as could have used it. The highlight of the day was the Bompusa River crossing, because it was a big fallen log where I was able to sit and eat a banana and some biscuits. I saw some shits on the log (yes, that's the official scientific term we use in camp) of some predator, that had obviously been eating a lot of fish. Perhaps it was an otter, but I'd rather think it was a leopard. I tied around 60 tags that day, and was out for about 12 hours - it was hard work.

THE NEW YORKER
My first three weeks or so at LuiKotal saw the camp populated by nine foreigners. One of them was Ian Parker, who is a writer for the New Yorker magazine doing some field work for a story on bonobos. He was a nice guy and a good campmate, and dealt with the rigours of the work here with grace. He wrote us recently to let us know that the draft is nearly complete, so the story should be appearing in one of the upcoming issues. Since it's a story on bonobos in general, and not necessarily just our field site, I'm sure there will be a lot of related information that he includes. Since he visited us for the story though, we surely get some decent exposure in his text - I therefore highly recommend everyone who reads this blog to go buy that issue for Ian's aritcle. The New Yorker is a weekly publication, and Ian will hopefully let us know around when the issue comes out, so I'll be sure to post that info here as soon as I know it. In the meantime though, I recommend keeping an eye out for places to pick up the New Yorker, in case you live in areas that don't necessarily have the magazine at the supermarket checkout line.

BRILLIANT
A last note I'll include here is Ian's compliment of my writings: "The blog is brilliant, by the way - and you're absolutely right about people wanting to read about oatmeal." This is quite an honour coming from such a seasoned writer, and a bit of a vindication for what I've chosen as content. Hopefully I'll be able to get back to posting entries more regularly, but in the meantime I'd love more feedback from people who I haven't heard from lately! In other words, write me emails! Thanks:)

With that, I hope you've got a feeling for what my life has been composed of lately, as well as a better picture of LuiKotal camp life in general. Again, it would be great to hear from more people out there, as I'm really quite curious as to who else I'm writing this for. I hope it's appreciated!