Ecuador Mission 2016, getting there.

I am right now almost half way through my 10th mission to Ecuador.

This year our son Bill came down with us. I went down to Canmore a couple of days early to mostly chill but also to nag him about packing, making sure he had found his passport etc.  We left Canmore about 1700 on Wednesday to go to the Delta Airpot hotel.  Our plane was to leave at 0640 the next morning and quite frankly being able to just walk across to the airport is priceless.  We of course had the ubiquitous mission hockey bags 4 in total plus our own stuff.  In Calgary I was able to find long term parking quite close to the terminal.  There didn't seem to be a shuttle but there were luggage carts so we wheeled our bags about a km to our hotel.   Mary was coming down by Red Arrow and arrived just after 7.  We had an expensive meal in the hotel restaurant after which we tried to sleep.  We all awoke shortly after 3 am, got dressed,  drank some coffee and then checked out picking up our bags and rolled across the street to the departures.

Even just after 4 am there was a huge line to check.  Fortunately I had managed to get Prestige status which meant we all got to go the head of the line.  This didn't help much as it was a long slog through customs and security.  One wonders how much productivity is lost through the long process of crossing borders, especially having travelled in Europe.  The US departures area in Calgary is much inferior to that in Edmonton in terms of places to eat.  We had pastries of indeterminate age from Starbucks and sat down to wait for our flight.  Gradually other mission members trickled in including my work colleague John Soong from Edmonton, the Pediatric team from Calgary and a few members of our adult team who were flying through Calgary.

After finally boarding, it was a 3.5 hour flight to Houston which I spent trying to sleep or read.  In Houston we went to our usual go to place, Pappadeux for a feed of fish and of course a beer.  We had a 5 hour stopover in Houston so this only killed about an hour, the rest of the time we spend wandering around, reading etc.   It was a 5 hour flight to Quito which was long if uneventful.  We cleared customs in Quito in an acceptable time, picked up our bags without event and were outside.  We had to wait a bit for the bus to our hotel and also for the bus which would take our bags to Cuenca (they are too heavy for  the plane to take off).  We stayed at beautiful and comfortable Hacienda style hotel about 20 minutes from the airport and were in bed by shortly after 2 am.  

We got to "sleep in" as our flight wasn't until 1230 which meant leaving the hotel around 1030 so we awoke around 8 am got dressed, had a nice buffet breakfast before loading ourselves back on the bus to go back to the airport.  Our flight to Cuenca was a short hour flight.  Unfortunately it was cloudy and we couldn't see much until we approached Cuenca.  We landed, got our bags and were greeted by the Rotarians who help us out every year.  We went in two buses through the crowded streets of Cuenca to our hotel the Inca Real.  It sounds hackneyed but after 9 years I find Cuenca and the Inca Real to be a second home.

The Green Corner

I need to write about a restaurant that sustained me 4 years ago in Rwanda and that too my shame and regret I only visited this week (twice).

I speak of the Green Corner.

4 years ago on our first day here, dazed and confused we realized after dark that we had no groceries and knew of no local restaurant.  The volunteer guide said that they had heard that the Green Corner was okay and I found it on a map in the Bradt Guide and figured I could navigate us there, which I did by the long way staying on light busy streets.

Arriving there reminded me of the scene in Animal House where the gang go to see Otis Day and the Nights.  Nevertheless we were shown to a table.  I asked for a menu in French and was told "Poulet or Poisson".  I figured poisson was safe and order three along with beer and frites.  About 10 minutes later someone explained to me in broken English that the the Poisson was way to big for us to eat three and suggested we get only 2.

It took a while to arrive during which we drank beer.  The Green Corner is a typical Rwandan restaurant, painted plaster, concrete floors and resin chairs.  After about an hour, a man arrive with the kettle of warm water and a bar of soap and we were directed to wash our hands.  When the food arrived, we learned why, there was no cutlery.  They did give us fork when we asked.  The poisson was the best I had even tasted or have tasted since.  Cooked over a wood fire, exquisitely spiced.  I would kill for the spice mix, I suspect the only way they would give it to me would be if they killed me after.

We ate their 4 more times, eating the equally good poulet, sometimes both.  We took the residents there for our last teaching session.  We stopped using cutlery and tore the meat off with our clean hands  We started taking the short cut through the unpaved unlite streets.

What was interesting was that after the initial suspicion of our first visit, by the fifth visit we were welcomed as old friends.

It took me until my fourth week here to venture over there.  It had changed, bigger with TVs now.  Still the same excellent food and I took Simon my colleague there the next night to demolish a chicken and poissson.    They do have a menu now albeit just written on a white board.

Still the best place I have eaten in Rwanda maybe in the top 10 world wide.  Not in Trip Advisor.  Pity.

Mazunga

Being a Canadian of British heritage, I have never been subject to an ethnic  nickname.  True Canuck was a derogatory term for Canadian, however Canuck now is just an under-achieving hockey team with very fickle fans.

During my last visit to Rwanda I learned that white folk like me were referred to as "mazungas".   This term is used throughout East Africa  This either means "wandering person" as I am sure Africans couldn't figure why these people left their homes to live in a land where the Africans were eking out an existence.  Someone else told me that it means someone with money and that black Africans are eligible for mazungahood.  Whatever.

I had a most embarrassing encounter today.

I love the little bananas they have here more than life and generally eat them for breakfast.  The quality of the bananas in our local market or street vendors is pretty poor possibly due to the season or maybe I am being offered mazunga-grade bananas.   I usually walk home but on taking a taxi which because of one way streets had to use  road parallel to the NR, I noticed some excellent fruit markets along that street.  For that reason I made a detour to buy some bananas today.  I actually bought them off a lady's head and probably paid too much but proceeded uneventfully along the remaining 2 km carrying my bunch of bananas in my hand.

That was until 1700 when a rather large school got let out.  School in Rwanda goes until 1700 although I think they get a long lunch break.

Suddenly a group of pubescent school uniformed girls  followed me, giggling and yelling "give us your banana Mazunga".  Okay it was getting close to supper and maybe they were hungry but somehow I don't think that was what they meant.  Rwanda is a very conservative country where men and women rarely even hold hands in public and I was a little shocked (and really embarrassed).  Anyway eventually I slunk onto a side street and they fortunately didn't follow me.

Last weekend I was at Nyungwe.  I had always noticed that when we passed groups of children they would always yell and wave and act like our driving past at that moment  was the best thing that ever happened to them.  This time I actually listened to them and they were chanting "money Mazunga" because that is apparently what we have.

I don't blame Africans for distrusting whites.  Aside from colonizing them (I still resent the British); there are all the stupid things we made them do post colonization, all the kleptocratic dictators we propped up, all the weapons we sold them and all the money currently stashed in Mazunga banks.

I have now spent 7+ weeks in Rwanda.  I can walk the streets safely (it would be nice if they learned sidewalk etiquette) , people treat me like a prince and the only Rwandan who has taken advantage of me is an ex-patriot Rwandan who lives in Canada most of the time (our landlord).

I can take the odd name calling and the odd embarassment.

Butare and Nyungwe

Tuesday we left for Butare.  Kigali was getting very old and I was ready for a change of scene.  In true Rwandan fashion we had to wait until Monday afternoon to find out if somebody was actually going to pay for our little trip there but it came thru and Tuesday morning we got picked up outside our apartment.

It is a two hour drive from Kigali to Butare.  We swung west along the river but after a few km climbed up.  As in most of Rwanda the whole area was cultivated as far as the eye can see.  The roads were crowded with people walking and riding bicycles and we could see people working in the fields. We passed through 2 moderate sized towns before entering Butare.  We checked in to the Credo Hotel were I stayed last time.  Not really much has changed.  We then went to the hospital to present ourselves to the administrator who was quite pleasant and were then directed to the OR to meet Isaac one of the anaesthesiologists.  This was a bit of a reunion as Isaac was a junior resident the last time I was in Butare.  Isaac showed us around the hospital.  Currently Isaac is the only staff anaesthesiologists.  Dr. Theo the department head is in Sweden doing a post-graduate degree and another anaesthesiologist is in India doing ICU training.  Yet another staff anaesthesiologist is working as an administrator at the hospital.  Isaac seemed to be taking being the only staff anaesthesiologist quite well.

After we walked back to our hotel stopping for a coffee and a light lunch.  As has become usual when given the opportunity, I had a nap followed by a dip in the Credo's rather large pool which actually has a deep end and a diving board.  After a beer on the terrace overlooking the street Simon and I walked up to the Ibis hotel which is really the only good place to eat in Butare.

We worked in the OR the next two days trying to teach two brand new first year residents and one second resident.  Fortunately the anaesthetic techs are extremely good in Butare and I admired their patience in dealing with the junior staff.  Aside from there being fewer staff anaesthesiologists, things have improved a great deal in Butare.  When I was last there, they had a variety of older machines some with drawover vapourizers but in the past 4 years all the machines are new, donated as I learned by HRH an American organization funded by the state department.  On the last day we met an American surgeon who was spending a year there funded by HRH.  He was an interesting character, a retired cardiac surgeon now doing general surgery and had also done a lot of MSF work.  As cardiac surgeons are the uber-princesses of the OR it was interesting to see how he could work in what are quite adverse conditions.

Our teaching ended around noon on Friday and we were picked up by Magnifique our driver for our planned trip to Nyungwe National Forest.  Nyungwe is one of the last tracts of primal African forest left.  It also drains into both the Nile and Congo basins.  This was accessible by a very rough dirt road last time but the road is now paved.  We headed out of Butare first passing the prison farm.  Orange and pink pajamaed prisoners were working in the field.  Genocide prisoners have to wear pink pyjamas.  We then proceeded through heavily cultivated hilly country.  Along the way we passed a large refugee camp made up of refugees from the Congo.

After an hour or so we ended Nyungwe Forest.  The road was windy and hilly with thick jungle on both sides.  At the higher points on the road you can see the forest canopy to the side.  Although the road is paved now we came across at least 5 large trucks off the side of the road.  At one place a truck carrying pigs had overturned and they were trying to catch the pigs.

Our first stop was Uwinke lookout where we planned to do the canopy walk.  I had turned down the opportunity to do this 4 years but wanted to try it this time.  To take the walk we had to pay $60 US each.  A group of 6 of us headed down the trail.  The guide would stop it seemed about every 10 metres to point out some nature feature.  This was getting a little frustrating after a while because it was getting later in the day and rain was threatening.  When we got close to the canopy we found the reason for his stalling.  A large group of Rwandan school children were ahead of us and we had to wait for them to get off the skywalk.

The skywalk itself reminds me of one of those bridges than Indiana Jones has to cross to escape from the bad guys or the bridge where Sean Connery made his last stand singing The March of the Irish Brigade in the Man Who Would be King.  Actually it is a lot safer than that.  It is a metal platform about half a metre wide with mesh on either side to my waist level and two ropes.  Our guide explained that it had been designed by a team of Brazilian and Canadian engineers.  Having 3 engineers as first degree relatives did not reassure me.

Our guide had to finally go and clear the school kids off the skywalk so we could get on.  This gave us about 15 minutes to stare at the skywalk crossing the void and watch it sway.  There is first a 10 m section to the tower which gives you a chance to chicken out which I thought about but didn't.  We then had to wait about another 10 minutes for the final school kids to get off before our guide took across the 100 m or so walk.  Had I not been scared shitless I could had looked to the sides on downwards.  I could have even taken a picture but that would have meant relaxing my death grip on the cables.  To enhance the experience our guide stopped mid way.  Finally we were off the skywall onto the second tower.

Me looking very calm and collected.

We had another short 10 metre section to get back to the trail and by the time we had walked back to the top of the hill my sphincters had relaxed.

From there M drove us to the Gisakura Guest House where we were staying.  I had remembered this as a spartan but pleasant place to stay.  We also stopped at the adjacent Ranger Station to buy our chimp tickets.

We had a pleasant dinner.  There was only two other guests, a couple.  The husband turned out to be an American Internist visiting Rwanda with.... HRH.  We had a nice conversation about medical and Rwandan matters.  It was soon time to go to bed because we were leaving for the chimps at 0500.

We met M, the guide and six other people the following morning.  Taking the guide with us, we headed west on the paved road.  It was still dark but people were already out on the road.  After about 15 minutes we turned onto a very rough dirt road.  We passed a lot of people out on the road, more as the sun rose.  We were outside the National Park so we passed tea plantations and farms.  After an hour we reached the drop off point.  There we met the trackers and also the porters who would for $10 carry your pack.  After getting instructions we headed up a path which become steeper and steeper, as well as more slippery.  The group spread out quite a bit.  We started to head down quite a treacherous downhill. As we got to the bottom, our guide spoke with the trackers by walkie talkie and then announced that we would have to retrace our steps as the chimps had moved.  We climbed back up the hill which was actually easier to climb than to go down and after all while we stopped and the ranger announced that we would wait here the chimps.  Waiting seemed a lot better than chasing them.  Eventually we learned that two or three were headed our way and we headed down a bush path to intercept them.  We were rewarded as we soon saw three chimps in the trees above us, who  dropped to the ground and ran by us within 10 metres of us.  We went further along the trail and saw a number of chimps on the ground and in the trees including a mother and baby.  They were heading away from us so the ranger decided we would go back to the road and watch them as they crossed.  We did this but the trackers soon relayed to us that the chimps had stopped again.  We went about 200 metres back up the trail and were able to watch about 10 including the mother and baby crossed the trail in front of us.  It was then a run back to the road were we watched them cross the road finally.

All this took a couple of hours.  Ironically our best view of the chimps camp 100 m from our vehicle.

We then had a 1.5 hour trip back to the guest house.  The roads were really busy with people walking, the women and some men carrying firewood, water or sacks of something on their heads.  We stopped at a tea field to get a closer look and a small group of children surrounded us including two young boys carrying a stack of bricks on their heads.

It was only 1030 when we got back to the guest house.  I had a shower and drank an African coffee.  The guesthouse also has internet so was able to check up on the world from the dead centre of Africa.  After lunch, it was nap time.

Dian Fossey

Sunday we hiked to Dian Fossey's grave.  Dian Fossey as I noted in my previous post looked nothing like Sigourney Weaver.  She is still a very controversial figure and while there is a lot of hagiography about her, likewise there are a lot of nasty stories about her.  I am currently reading Bill Weber and Amy Vedder's book "In the Kingdom of the Gorillas" and they certainly have very little good to say about her.  You can read the book, read "Gorillas in the Mist" which   is Dian's book or watch the movie.  Or maybe you just don't care.

After eating an early breakfast at the Muhabera, Magnifique picked us up at 0630.  To do this hike you have to go to the same staging area as for the gorillas.  There we paid $75 each and were assigned a guide.  Our driver drove us and the guide to the drop off point for this particular hike.  This involved a fairly long drive up a very rocky road until we got too  the drop-off point.  There I hired  porter and we hiked through the farm fields to a gap in the stone wall.  The guide explained to us that Dian used to park her car there, paying a villager to watch it.  There we met 3 trackers including one with a gun who were to accompany us.  Keep in mind there was only Simon and me.  We set off on a steady uphill through the forest for about 30 minutes until we arrived at a clearing with benches to sit on.  At that point our guide informed us we were half way there.  The remainder was flatter but extremely muddy.  Logs had been laid across the path in a futile attempt however they were slippery and sometimes it just seemed safer too walk in the mud which went up to the top  of my boots in places.

We eventually arrived at the remains of the camp and the gravesite.  Most of the camp  is gone now except for the foundation stones and some stoves.  It has been reclaimed by the jungle and also was looted during  the genocide and aftermath.  The site is very muddy which according to Weber and Vedder is what it was like in the 1970s.  We walked somberly past the remains of several cabins which the ranger explained to us before arriving at the remains of DFs cabin.  This was bigger than the rest but of course she was the boss and lived there for quite some time.  This was where she was murdered.  The guide did point out that the camp was quite  spread out and her cabin was a ways away from the nearest cabin which may have accounted for why nobody heard the murder or tried to help her.

The whole area is very gloomy, shaded by large moss and vine covered trees that project out huge horizontal branches.  We proceeded to the grave site.

In addition to her grave marker, multiple  other gorillas are buried. These include Digit a silverback, whose death lead off Walter Cronkite's broadcast way back when, he having been featured in a National  Geographic Special.  According to the hagiography, Dian's body was at the airport ready to be taken back to the US when somebody found out that she had desired to be buried next to Digit.

Also buried there are the many gorillas she knew who have since died of natural or not so natural causes.  According to the guide only gorillas she knew get to be buried there and only 3 such gorillas are still alive.

It was sombre place, dark and damp and after paying what was a reasonable amount of respect we indicated to our entourage that we walked to leave and  so we proceeded back on the muddy path.  As we started down the steeper part which was a little damp, one of the porters would grab my hand during the sketchy parts and I didn't even feel insulted.

Magnifique met us at the bottom and with the guide we descended the rocky trail.  We stopped for lunch at a tourist lodge, a few steps up from the Muhabera.  They took our muddy boots and gave us flip flops and we ate a pretty decent buffet lunch.  It was a little expensive at $20 US each but when we came out and our boots had been cleaned it seemed like a fair deal.

I slept and gazed at the scenery on the 2 hour drive back to Kigali.

Gorillas revisited

Friday we left for the gorillas.

I had recovered from my GI upset but decided not to chance going to the hospital for half a day so I just hung around the apartment, read, checked the internet and at one point going a little stir crazy went for a walk.

At 1200 we walked across to the Merez gas station where we had agreed to meet our driver and just as agreed there he was. It is always gratifying when after wiring large amounts of money to a company, that they actually show up. Our vehicle was a large Toyota Land Cruiser which I remembered from our previous trip. Our driver's name was Magnifique. Really.

We pulled out on to the NR and around the mosque headed west down a very steep and narrow, cobbled street for about a km before joining an arterial road and heading out of town. This was my second trip so I remembered most of the route. Essentially we climbed a major fairly steep hill just out of Kigali. Climbing the hill, we noticed a couple of cyclists were hitching ride, holding onto a truck which was labouring up the hill. Reaching the top we proceeded along a ridge with views to the North and South of the valleys below and we were very high above the valley floor. It is the end of the dry season and a lot of the crops were harvested and so there were a lot of brown fields. As before terraced fields reached to the top of most of the hills.  Could have got some nice photos but our driver was no inclined to stop.

We eventually descended a little and after an hour stopped at collection of shops and restaurants. Our driver explained that the whole development was owned by one man who had a factory making banana wine. I said that I had never had banana wine and he directed me to where I could buy a bottle. After making sure it was okay for passengers to drink in Rwanda, I opened it and sipped it as we headed to Muzanze. It tasted somewhat like cheap port.

We arrived in Muzanze to the Muhabera Hotel. This hotel's claim to fame is that Dian Fossey kept a room there when she wasn't out with the gorillas. The room is still kept as she left it. Her room is number 12 and mine was 14 so we were quite close. They had pictures of her and she didn't look anything like Sigourney Weaver. Who knew

Otherwise there is nothing that impressive about the hotel. It is collection of square buildings, plastered and painted. My room had a large bed and not much else. There was an elaborate spray shower which the clerk who walked us to our rooms demonstrated.

I had a fairly substantial bowl of mushroom soup on the terrace as well as a beer. Then it was nap time after which I read a bit and checked the internet. Around 1900 I went down for supper with Simon and had a goat stew which was very good.

We were to be picked up at 0630 for the gorillas and the hotel advised me that they served a buffet breakfast from 0545. The buffet breakfast turned out to be a cellophane covered plate of fruit, some hard boiled eggs and white bread for toast. There was also coffee and hot milk. Thus fortified Magnifique picked us up at 0630 and it was a 20 minute drive to the staging area.

We all milled around watching some drummers and dancers and drinking more coffee. The drivers generally negotiate with the rangers as to which of the eight groups their charges will go to. The Susa group is the largest and most desired but it is a one hour drive plus a 3 hour hike each way, so generally only the fittest trekkers get to go there. I was eventually assigned to the Hirwa group.

Our ranger explained that the Hirwa group was a relatively new group. Its Silverback, nick-named Lucky had been the number 3 Silverback in the Susa group until his penchant for, as our ranger put it, doing jiggy-jiggy with the females in the troop resulted in multiple “punishments” by the dominant Silverback and his eventual exile from the group. He did take one female with him and picked up 4 from other groups, starting his own group.

By the way “punishment” consists of being bitten and in the last year 3 silverbacks have been killed in love triangles. Park policy is not to interfere in gorilla politics.

With the information Magnifique drove me to the starting point of our trek about 30 km away. I hired a porter for $10 US to carry my bag and our group of eight headed out thru potato fields towards the park. 

 We were given carved walking sticks to carry which proved to be very helpful. We arrived at a stone wall where we were met by 3 trackers, one carrying a submachine gun which the ranger advised me was for buffalo who lived in the forest (we never saw one, but they do use it as a bathroom). We all squeezed thru a narrow slit in the wall and walked gradually uphill along a path in a bamboo forest. After a while, it became less of a path and a steeper climb. Fortunately the footing was good, there was bamboo (and nettles) to grab onto and the porters where very helpful. After about an hour we got close to where the trackers had located the group and we were told to leave our packs and walking sticks which scare the gorillas. We walked about 50 metres before spotting our first gorilla and soon the rest of the troop. The troop were spread out around the ground, with some in the trees. There were many young gorillas who ran around crazily. There were very young gorillas including at least one still riding his mother's back but no babies. The silverback was lying on his back being groomed by a younger gorilla.  

You are supposed to stay 7 metres back from gorillas but our guides did not enforce this, in fact hacking vegetation away so we could get closer. It was a fascinating  hour in the company of our close relatives,watching them eat and play but eventually it came to and end and we hiked out and back to the meeting place where Magnifique was waiting for me.

In the past four years Rwanda has embraced the carving shop concept so common in Kenya. To get our gorilla certificates we had to stop at one of these, the goods of course all made by local cooperatives. I bought a basket which I had planned to do anyway. I also bought a book about the gorillas. The shop-keeper asked me if I was interested in one of the carved walking sticks. How am I going to get that on the plane, I asked. Simple it comes apart like a pool cue into three pieces. He knocked off $5 and I now have a walking stick. Most of the shops took credit cards or would give change in US$$.

Returning to the hotel, I got to try the elaborate spray shower. The spray feature shot out thin but painful jets of hot water but there was a least hot water. After I had a goat brochette on the terrace along with a beer. Off for another nap. Simon who had gone on another group wasn't back so I walked towards Muzanze about a km. The road was filled with people walking in both directions. As usual when I walk in Rwanda, people still seem surprised to see a Muzunga walking. Or maybe my fly was open. Simon was on the terrace when I got back so I had another beer with him.   

If you aren't interesting in my bowels don't read this

About 2 am the night before last, I awoke with my tummy rumbling in serious fashion and I had what I  used to call a Havana Omelet and now call a Kigali Omelet.  Probably just the heat or my IBS acting up I thought.  5 Omelets later I realized that I had genuine case of Traveler's Diarrhea and popped my first dose of Cipro.

I have prided myself over the last few years on travelling and trying to live as much as a local as possible except for my preference for running water and nice hotels.  Especially when you are visiting somewhere for an extended period of time you can't or shouldn't isolate yourself from the local culture.

On the contrary when I visit Ecuador with my medical mission, we eat only in our hotel and have lunch delivered to the hospital lest we catch something nasty.  There is some merit in this, you really can't do much surgery if a lot of your team is sitting on the porcelain throne.  Despite this on some years a couple of people got really sick despite following rigidly the dietary laws.  I usually blame the sandwiches the well-meaning Rotarians bring into the hospital.  I never eat them, who knows how many days old they are or whether the person who made them washes his hands ever.  On the other hand I have often passed up appetizing street meat for fear of letting down the team.  This ended last year when I brought down a colleague who faced with the abundance and variety of street meat was determined to sample each and every variety.  "You have to talk to him" said the team leader, "what happens if he gets sick?"  I didn't mention the Rotary sandwiches and just said, that I couldn't really control my colleague (which is true).

Being both male and an anaesthesiologist, I am to blame for much of what is wrong in the world and of course when you do get something like traveler's diarrhea you blame yourself.  I shouldn't have eaten at that restaurant, I should have used bottled water to brush my teeth, I should have exclusively drank beer, I should have cooked the meat I bought at the local market for 3.5 hours instead of 3.  Instead there is a fatalism that my time had come and I was probably lucky to have gone as long as I did.  So many ways you can be obsessive and still contract it.  For example you can shake hands with somebody and then touch your mouth, the person who opens your beer may not have clean hands, even the most expensive restaurant is no guarantee etc.

TD is natures way of telling you, "you do not belong here, you are not part of this environment and this is your punishment for your pretentiousness"

It is also sobering to think that many visitors to Africa and the tropics in general succumbed and died of  diarrheal diseases.  Of course when you compare this to the diseases (and the guns) we brought down with us, we are still ahead if you want to look at things that way.

Anyway by tomorrow the Cipro may be working and anyway even if I| have to wear a diaper I have going to see the gorillas this weekend.