Ibn Ibn Battuta

Devolutionary Biology

In my previous travels, I have offered separate observations on both the turmoil in eastern DR Congo and the ecosystem collapse threatening Lake Victoria.

Delphine Schrank's brief report, "As Go the Hippos...", in the latest issue of The Atlantic highlights the intersection of these two phenomena beside another of Africa's Great Lakes. The resulting disaster, on the shores of Lac Edouard, is proving much greater than the sum of its parts.

Unfortunately, the convergence of economic, environmental, political, and population pressures is likely to make such multi-faceted disasters even more common in coming decades.

A Teacher's Life in Goma

Eastern DR Congo map

Today we met Musengo's year-old daughter, Odile, named after Edouard's wife. Musengo picked Lisa and I up from l'Ecole des Volcans - the school where we are teaching an informal English class to local kids each morning while in Goma - to take us back to his house, a two-room abode beside a wide field of lava rock. When we entered, little Odile was wobbling, but upright, clutching against a coffee table leg for support. She smiled at her father's voice, and thought nothing of these extra feet and legs that shuffled into her world.

When her father picked her up, however, and she came eye-to-eye with the first white people she had ever seen, her eyes widened and stayed transfixed in

There but for the Grace of God: A Lesson in Congolese Chemistry

Eastern DR Congo map

On Sunday we drove to the coltan mine at Bibatama, the heart of MHI’s operation. As we left the perfectly smooth, newly paved road out of the city and entered the mountains, the surface reverted to a fine powdery dust, which soon seeped in the 4x4's cracks and layered all of us - Dr. Sussman and Edouard, two Burmese geologists on hire for some rock analysis, MHI’s top Congolese managers, and Lisa and I.

The vehicle climbed for several hours before we finally reached the mine's office, perched on a broad hilltop. In mid-afternoon and less than 100 miles south of the equator, the air held a crisp chill. We set off immediately for the

Where War Once Reigned, Still Waters Run Deep

Eastern DR Congo map

Last Saturday we ate at L'Hôtel Nyira, home of Goma's finest restaurant (at least of the three that exist, by my count). I wolfed down a dish of local capitaine from the lake, while Edouard, Dr. Sussman, and Lisa tried grilled tilapia specials and a chicken dish with ground squash beans, cooked in a banana leaf. Following Edouard's lead, I dressed my fish with a fiery Congolese pili-pili sauce. The tuxedoed waiters hovered, in the near absence of other patrons, and eagerly brought additional rounds of Primus and Mutzig, the region's most popular beers. The Nyira even serves wine, a rarity in Goma.

Over dessert, Edouard recounted a previous trip to this hotel under very

To Goma, the City at Horizon's End

Eastern DR Congo map

When genocide struck Rwanda ten years ago, Edouard Mwangachuchu was a young cattle rancher just across the border in Bibatama, a small community in the hills northeast of Goma, DRC. He and his wife Odile, both Tutsis, raised their six children in peace, but grew increasingly worried as the génocidaires pushed closer and closer to the Congolese border. When the madness spilled over into Congo, Edouard recognized that to save his family, he had to flee. He wanted to reach the United States, where he knew he and his family could gain asylum.

Tragically, the only major airport within hundreds of miles was in Kigali. To

My Day at the Pool in Kigali

Rwanda map

On my first day in Kigali, I walked along the city's lazy, dusty streets and snapped a few pictures, trying to master my first digital camera (and failing at it, if the resulting photographs are any indication).

Most striking about Kigali is its normalcy; it is shocking that a country so thoroughly devastated by genocide was rebuilt so quickly. Today, almost ten years to the date after the carnage peaked, office buildings, bustling grocers, bars, telecom shops, and tidy churches line the neat, well-paved roads. Guards leaned idly against the faces of banks and internet cafes, rifles slung over their shoulders. Women in

In the Land of a Thousand Hills, Congo Bound

Rwanda map

It was night when we landed in Kigali. Unlike the crisp white twinkles of European skylines, yellow splashes like flame winked across the city's hillsides. They wavered, small yellow points among flapping foliage, smudged by the dark and muggy air.

Dr. Sussman, his daughter Lisa, and I fetched our bags and trundled out to Edouard's Land Cruiser. I made out the dimly lit "Bienvenue à Kigali" sign as the driver rolled the vehicle slowly out of the airport parking lot, then charged off along the darkened road.