The man now held our driver’s license, car keys and passports. Dark glasses, tight uniform, remarkably large white teeth, the epitome of sadistic authority.
“No cash, let us have a smoke together in stead” my travelling companion suggested upon his demand, offering the prepared packet with neatly rolled US dollar bill inside. This appealed to the uniform; he smiled, selected his prize, returned our stuff and off we went.
Our mission was to find the rare Green-headed Oriole and these birds occur only on Mount Gorongoza in Mozambique, some six hours from Beira, depending on depth of potholes and complexity of road blocks. Targeted birding goes with some challenges, and arriving at the beautiful Gorongoza National Park, we soon learned that Renamo allowed no-one onto this mountain, their stronghold.
Negotiating skills were again required, an emissary was sent and he returned from the mountain a day later exhausted, with the conditions laid down by Renamo: no guns, no male Mozambicans, meet our man at the foot of the mountain, obey all his orders.
“We leave at three”. Frazer, our impressive birding guide was one of those who could focus on an objective and allow nothing to get in his way. And focus was needed: standing alone on the vast plains, Mt Gorongoza appeared slowly from the receding night and did not seem that huge. But as we drove ever higher up the slopes and foothills, even sophisticated vehicles started overheating and we knew the Mountain was not going to show its treasures for free.
The Renamo man was impressive. All those traits many wish for and few have. We were to go straight up, no contours, using the soldiers’ routes. He would take us high enough to be in the area where Green-headed Orioles occur, but not to the summit. Renamo leaders and traditional healers live there; they do not wish to be seen. We were to stay with him. Easier said than done, he was used to traversing the Mountain carrying a heavy machine gun and today his hands were free — as were his long legs which seemed to glide over and under obstacles displaying a grace normally associated with forest animals.
The Mountain was higher than it had seemed, the pace was fast and the route was challenging. Guide Frazer to the rescue when he paused for a quick briefing: “The good news is that there are no other Orioles on this mountain” he said. “Whenever you hear the call, it will be Green-headed. We will just need to find it”.
Forest birding is challenging at the best of times. When the forest is confined to the top of a lone mountain, the trees grow dense and tall in their quest for space and light. The lowest branches may be thirty metres up and all foliage seemed to be as green as our bird.
The explosive, liquid song stopped everyone in their tracks, Renamo man included. This was it! Suddenly, we were among them. The calls came from many directions, also “waaarr”, the unmistakable danger call. Breathing became heavy from excitement, long lenses were ready, sound equipment was activated, binoculars were scanning. The Mt Gorongoza scriptwriter and director conspired successfully for many minutes to build the tension. The calls would suddenly cease and then resume form a different direction. How did they get there without any of us spotting them? Would we ever? Anxiety.
And then, out of the green, the Green-headed Oriole. Unique, unmistakable, beautiful. Moss green head, yellow collar, green back. The grandson’s hands grow steady, his breathing slows, his long lens brings the birds into our hearts and memories forever. Success!
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(Story published in Travel section of the Sunday Times titled “The Green Heads in our Hearts”)
