Wild Spirit (29 page)

A traditional Pygmy shelter at M'Vadhi, contrasting with the mud hut most widely built throughout the country. We were shocked and dismayed to see Pygmy families in poor and degraded conditions.

I make friends with children and a puppy at M'Vadhi. I wondered what future these children might have in this remote location, with limited educational opportunities and the ever-present threat of disease.

Win sedates Josie with red wine prior to surgery, while Rodo and I steady her arms and legs. This was the beginning of our journey of love with her that was to change my life.

Josie on the Citroën Méhari. She became part of our Belinga family. Her intelligence and vulnerability kept us on an emotional seesaw between joy and sadness as we shared each day.

Josie with Win in our flat, drinking from his glass of beer. Once she realised she was in a loving environment, she relaxed. On Sundays, Win would take her to the edge of the forest to forage.

Josie clinging to me at the radio on the day she left us. I was weighed down by the sadness of her imminent departure, and fearful for her future.

Boisterous Bouéni, a young male chimpanzee, leapt into my arms on an island near the CNRS research station in Makokou. Reared in captivity, he was a relentless attention-seeker.

On the island, where Hugo brought food drops of bananas every few days. Bouéni's gobbling style of eating contrasted with Ikata's fastidious feeding habits. In the wild, gorillas and chimpanzees would never live together.

Ikata has peeled a banana and explores its texture delicately. Sharing this moment in the forest with two of our closest relatives filled me with wonder, and I felt the force of a different destiny tugging at me.

Bouéni soon abandoned his food in favour of another cuddle. Honoured by his trust, I savoured this precious encounter, wishing it would last forever.

Bananas forgotten, Ikata embarks on a grooming session, teasing my long hair out of its rubber band and fossicking gently on my scalp. Incredulous, I felt I had entered, at least in part, into his world.

The horror of a slain silverback gorilla at Belinga, shot through the back by local hunters. Gorillas were demonised in the local culture, and killing one brought prestige as well as meat.

A gorilla's skull picked clean by ants – another distressing sight that would haunt me forever. Our efforts to stop gorilla killings proved fruitless. Their protected status under the law meant nothing in this remote forest.