Gorillas in the Mist (21 page)

Although Dian and Richard Rombach took no pleasure in the manner of their going, they were both relieved to see Kelly and Sandy depart.

Sandy will be writing up his thesis for some eighteen months at least and is likely gone for good. Though Kelly is due to return here in January, I wouldn’t mind if she didn’t come back. The little boy from New York was in tears when I returned from California. I’m allowing him to stay on for another month’s trial, and he is working ever so much better since Sandy and Kelly have gone. In fact, the entire atmosphere around camp is very much improved.

R
ichard Rombach’s field observations may have improved, but his navigational skills had not. On October 13, 1974, he got lost again.

What a night. Basili and Nemeye were out to begin a search at 5:40
P.M.
I follow in ten minutes and we climb up elephant trail. They go on to edge of crater and I stay behind and try to make fire-impossible. We get home by 11:00, tired and cold and wet. Basili and woodman go down the mountain to get ten extra men, and Nemeye and I plan for next day.

Wogs not up the mountain till 5:45 or nearly 6:00, which makes me mad. Ten of them start out to search, and I establish a central place in the alpine meadow with litter, blankets, fire, water, and some food. I go out of my mind just waiting. It begins to rain at 2:20…. We sit in fog and rain until first batch of men return. They have had no luck—had tried all around crater and tourist trail. Then about twenty minutes later, Bambari comes and says they have him. Basili found him just as it started to rain, around the other side of the mountain. We go with a stretcher and find him walking…. I ask him if anything is broken or bleeding-he says no.

Dian was now in full maternal flight and not about to allow her meticulous preparations to be wasted. Rombach, who had fallen into a ravine but had not suffered anything worse than a bruising, was ordered to lie down on the stretcher and was carried back to camp, where Dian changed him into dry clothes before accompanying him (still on a stretcher) to Ruhengeri and the home of Dr. Weiss, who was on emergency call that night.

Until this hour Dr. Peter Weiss, the imposing and compelling fifty-eight-year-old French surgeon at the Ruhengeri hospital, had not been an admirer of Dian, nor she of him. Now quite inexplicably, something dramatic and explosive occurred between them.

Dr. Weiss and a second doctor examine Richard, and Weiss holds my hand strongly. I am teary since all is over at last. Dr. Weiss is so kind and good to me this time. Not like before at all.

While Rombach was sent to the hospital for observation, Dian was invited to have dinner with Weiss and his odd family, which consisted of a black “wife,” one black child, two white, and two colored ones.

During dinner he asks, “You are not afraid of me?” We also discussed his “moral obligations” and my “mental” ones. He asked if I really believed I was as obligated to my way of life as he was to his. I said yes, and he said he could respect me better now.

He wouldn’t let his wife go to the hospital with us-she was mad-but his daughter tagged along…. Rombach took a sleeping pill.

Dian tried to sleep in the hospital ward to keep an eye on her student but finally gave up and walked to the nearby hotel to get a room. But next morning she was at Rombach’s bedside in time for early-morning “rounds.”

Dr. Weiss comes on rounds at 8:20. Also a very handsome, well-built young doctor, also a surgeon. But the die is cast, I see only Weiss.

Rombach and I must go to the X-ray department-the
results are normal and I put him back to bed. Then I leave him and go to Weiss who is in surgery-so I have a long wait.

When he’s finished, he
demands
that I go to his house at noon for lunch. When I say no, he gets really mad. Really
MAD.
He says I must never come to him again. “You do not like me. You do not want to be around an old silverback.”

I get teary and plead work, and he screams,
“Go then!”
I can’t say what I want to because the nurse is standing there and I don’t know what to do about the way I feel.

Thoroughly shaken, Dian stopped at the hotel bar for a quick one before driving back to the base of the mountain and climbing to Karisoke. That evening she engaged in a peculiar ritual that she sometimes employed when about to embark on something of great moment. She burned some money—several thousand francs—which was quite a substantial sum considering the perennially precarious state of her finances. Perhaps she was trying to buy the goodwill of the gods.

Next morning she sent a note down to Weiss, along with a photo of a silverback gorilla. “Silverbacks are what I like best. They are fine and noble—even if they do have uncertain tempers.”

A day passed during which she accomplished little but spent much time dreamily watching two ringed doves courting in front of her cabin.

I kind of goof off, it seems. Don’t know what is going on. The strangest feeling …

The following day it all hit home.

A real love letter from Dr. Weiss! Wow, what a letter! I spent the whole day trying to answer it-what a great feeling! I get X in
P.M.—
no dinner. I am smitten. Who would have thought it!

Getting “X” was Dian’s private code for drinking.

Within a week Weiss had begun trekking up the mountain to spend nights with Dian. Sometimes he came alone and at other times brought some of his children. Dian eagerly anticipated those visits.

I washed my hair and await my love…. God, I want Peter. I ache for him…. Oh, Peter, I need you. Her life was suddenly full of joy.

November 6:
Wonderful contact with Group 4 in saddle area after they had crossed the meadow in the open going along Camp Trail. Fantastic, and all the more so because I was below, and somehow the weather cleared and it was just like Kabara, going through the saddle richness…. Followed fresh buffalo trail too. Contact great except I didn’t see Old Goat and her baby … super because of Macho and Uncle Bert having a flirtation. I did catch wind of another silverback and found a fresh trail of Peanuts going into the saddle. Also dung, hopefully Amok’s, deposited within the last month. Really enjoyed the day. Come home and get Kima in for the night, and Richard Rombach came over to tell me about his day with Group 5.

It was all perfect, as I live in love once again.

But almost in the same breath she betrayed her dread that this, too, would be evanescent.

I became afraid in the
P.M.
that I was taking this love too deeply and would lose him, only to be alone again, as always.

November 8:
Another love letter from Peter. I know he doesn’t have time to compose them, but I can’t believe he can love me as much as he says he does. Anyway, I have hope for tomorrow and Sunday. Oh, Peter, I need you.

Next day Dian received word that Weiss would have to postpone this visit for a week.

I received two letters from Peter. He says he is on duty at the hospital this weekend. Meanwhile I have gotten everything ready for him and the children. I think this is the thing that has finally broken me. He is not coming and all was so ready. He is like all men-talk is cheap…. I will not write to him now. He bloody well knew he would have duty this weekend, and he says he is going to Kigali
on Monday at 5:00…. love can hurt and I’m so lonely.

As she so often did when she fancied herself rejected by one of her own kind, she went looking for solace amongst the gorillas. This time even they failed her.

Rwelekana and I start searching for Old Goat and her baby. I go onto Cattle Trail, which is quite overgrown since I last saw it-go all the way down to the big meadow with the fallen hagenia trees, then “instinct” tells me to turn into the nettle area-but no trail. I nearly got it from a buffalo at that point. I was tracking through dirt when I heard a snort. I thought it was in the distance, but I looked up to see him ten feet off. He gave a head toss and took a step in my direction. I reckon that if they can see you walking in the opposite direction they will flee-I did, and he did. Hacked my way through nettles and made gorilla noises, to be answered only by Rwelekana’s whistle. I joined him, then looked behind and saw another buffalo bringing up the rear! … We spend hours mucking around but see nothing, so hack our way home through the nettles. It rains and is horrid on the way.

As the next promised visit from Peter Weiss neared, her spirits began to soar once again.

The air smells like the lobelia tastes-tangy-full of the promise of elephant and buffalo and gorilla behind every bush. It’s getting clear-you can see the stars, though there is no moon. Edith Piaf is playing loudly on the tape recorder. I don’t think he would like the record but he would like the night-so fresh…. All I can live for is tomorrow…. God, I love him and I am so happy.

On Saturday, Dian busied herself cooking “lots of good food,” cleaning her cabin, braiding her hair, and making herself look her best. She gave her woodman the day off and dismissed her houseman early. Then she waited impatiently.

I am cranky before they come, as it was so late I had given them up.

Just at nightfall she saw Weiss and two of his older children, Mimish and Pierre, crossing the meadow toward her cabin, and she immediately forgot her anger.

Dian and Peter Weiss made love and talked late into the night. She learned about his family—mother and father both dead, sister and brother living in France—and something of his career as a doctor. He had graduated from medical school in ‘39, then fought in World War II, but would not talk about that because it was “too horrible.”

He told her his African wife, Fina, had many local friends and was ready to “kill” Dian; that she wanted a settlement of twenty thousand Rwandan francs before she would agree to leave him. Although he claimed they were now estranged, he admitted that Fina continued to live at his house in Ruhengeri, “but just to care for the children.”

During subsequent visits Weiss would also admit that he was not, in fact, married to Fina, although she was the mother of three of his five children. He explained that he had married in France in 1949, separated in 1961, but, being Catholic, had not been free until the death of his legal wife early in 1974.

However, nothing he could say or do seemed able to dampen her ardor—or lessen the terrible anxiety that was the other side of the coin.

I am so old and wrinkled and ugly, it is alarming. I am trying to begin to look decent for Peter, but what’s the use.

By December 15 they had begun discussing marriage, and at this juncture an event took place that would normally have commanded at least a full page of her diary. Now it received only the briefest mention.

On Christmas Day a poacher patrol brought me one poacher, Hategeka, whom I beat with nettle stalks and used my own sumu magic on. The three guards who took him down were afraid of my sumu.

The following day she held what had by now become a traditional Christmas party for her camp workers and their families.

We worked in a frenzy to get everything done. The people all came at eleven o’clock but had to wait while Rwelekana and Burumbe finished up the food. I think there were thirty-one people in all—I gave up counting. They seemed to really have a good time and drank a lot of beer. Then they slowed down on it and ate tons of food. I couldn’t believe the size of their plates! Then I gave out the presents…. I really liked Burumbe’s baby and wife. They surely enjoyed themselves. The woodman brought his mother and father—nice old people, especially the father.

About 2:30 they all said they wanted to dance and sing for happiness—
WOW
, what a show, and about an hour of it! Mukera was fabulous as a dancer. He really has rhythm. Never saw anything like it in my life. Bagalo played the drum, and first the two woodmen danced and then Kanyaragana and a woodman’s wife. Sexy as hell, all the dances. Then the men began their individual chants, ending up with one about Mlle. Dian Fossey. The dust was flying—they danced the worms out of the woodwork. Everyone went down happy and I was ecstatic.

Kima had to stay inside her cage all day, screaming, but at least no one was bitten. After they left, Burumbe and Rwelekana were really fussy about cleaning up and did so straightaway. I took a two-hour nap, ate a huge dinner, then went for a long walk. The moon was beautiful and it was so clear. I didn’t see one animal, but an owl followed me above in the trees. It was gorgeous and magical. I wish Peter had been there.

As 1975 began, Dian’s passionate preoccupation with Weiss continued. Nothing else seemed to have much significance for her, including the comings and goings of students and researchers. Kelly Stewart’s return in early January got no more attention in Dian’s journal than a rather snide remark about the amount of luggage she had brought with her. And the departure of the unlucky Richard Rombach did not even rate a mention.

At the end of January a botanist newly arrived at Karisoke to study the plant life on Mt. Karisimbi burned his cabin as a result of carelessly placing his drying racks too close to his stove while he was out collecting. Dian and three of her Africans fought the blaze with pails of water from Camp Creek, but the building with all its contents, including many of Dian’s own books, was a complete loss. Dian had worked herself into exhaustion— “Get so sick I can’t stand it.” That night she collapsed while carrying a valuable gorilla skull, which dropped from her hands and shattered. This was one of the worst days she had experienced in many months, yet the very next day she was in ecstasy.

Peter brings up a French mail-order catalog full of wedding ring pictures. I was so pleased when he ordered an engagement ring and a wristwatch for me.