a night in the ugandan woods

trends-and-insights-africa by: kangye david

Mabira is the nearest of the big forests in Kampala on your way to Jinja. It is very thick with more than 300 tree species that you can tell and as you drive closely, the air is keeps changing. It is gentle and soft on your skin. When you breathe you can feel it straight into your lungs.

Among the thick trees, there lies a beautiful wooden haven that is hidden beneath the canopies of giant trees. It is about six kilometers into the forest. And once you turn off that road, the familiar noise of cars speeding by the road dies away.

As you drive deep into the forest, the rays of the big bold sun struggle to penetrate the canopies. The road is a shade of this quiet arch. From afar, you hear the crickets cricking with a very long whistle. You can tell from the loudness that they are showing off their independence well knowing no one will interrupt them. In an instant, you are consumed by a silence that opens you up to a new sound. It is so crisp and very tender. In case you have been insensitive to your car, you get to hear each and every little sound it makes.

I wish I could tell you the name of the animal that barked through the hour of the night when we were in the woods. But I cannot since I did not see it. I imagine it is the size of a well-fed dog that creates havoc once it has been set off its leash. You know when a dog has been unlocked from its kennel and it longs to see people, it jumps up and about running in circles to kick off the exhaustion.

That night, light rain fell over the forest. You could tell from the way it came to wash over the trees and go back. The leaves were in conversation as they shook off the drops of rain that had stayed after the shower. They fell down upon each other leisurely.

The woods have a sort of kindness only known by them. To get to them, you walk through a footpath guided by lampposts dimly lighting the way for you. For one used to big lights and noise, one feels he's being followed or watched by someone hiding in the darkness surrounding you. Inside the cottage, the woods create a warmth that makes you forget that you are far away from the brick and mortar that you have been meant to believe and trust that provides your security.

The bar had closed. As I sat in my cottage a big cloud of silence befell me. You could hear a leaflet drop. The cold wind woke up from its bed and began running around, roaming like an injured lion looking for those who were still awake. It shook the branches of the trees to near-breaking. You would feel like the cottage was going to be lifted up and cast in the trees. The turmoil of the night comes with a few mixed feelings. First is the excitement that you were alive to have such an experience. Secondly, the scare that this is not a thing you are used to.

When that storm sailed, it must have gone along with the blankets of the nocturnal. They woke up and rose up in anger. They started a protest screaming the loudest tearing through the quiet night. They called out to whoever cared to hear them out. Or were they arguing among themselves? They took rounds. They barked while others roared. The timid could not sleep. I wondered which of the 23 different species it was. I curled up in bed and with a little twitching of the toe I thought it had made the loudest noise. And that the loitering animals would come for me. The sounds then started to take a tour encircling the cottages, you would hear the sounds shift. As they did, so did the pitch of their voices.

I dimmed my light to divert the attention of things light attracts. I wanted to see what I heard but then I was afraid of the darkness. And there I was in my bed without an idea of what I clearly wanted. I wanted to keep the cake. I wanted to have it too.

Then the sounds distanced. They were on the move like two village drunkards who cannot agree on one thing but continue arguing with each other. They shout for everyone even when the conversation is between only the two of them.

When all this dust had settled, sleep located me. The first thing I did in the morning was to sit by the forest viewing deck to make sense of the things of the night as the music of the birds played on. Mabira is home to 315 birds whose music you should listen to. I thought maybe the crazy animals could have come back and fallen asleep in the distance where I could see them. I saw none.

Would I sleep in the woods again? Absolutely yes but this time round I would try not to mind the animals.

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