Kenya Dig It?

In seventh grade my science teacher assigned the first of many term papers. The topic was to chose any vertebrate that we'd like and describe their pertinence to their native region, specific characteristics, etc.

As surprising as it might be to any one who knows all about me and my slacker tendencies today, back in my youth I was a studious and active class participant.

Thus, this term paper was of the utmost importance.
Which pissed me off because I had absolutely no idea which animal to chose.
I wanted to be "original", which meant no lions or zebras, but I didn't want to be the chick researching the sloth or anteater either.
And so, one way or another after much debate, I ended up in the ape family and from there narrowed it down to mountain gorillas.

Almost immediately I became infatuated with the mountain gorilla.
I read up on Dian Fossey, watched Congo probably a few too many times, and I even sent a letter to a textbook series publishing company asking if they would send me a copy of the edition centered around apes.

I also played clarinet in the school band and sat with the Asian girls at lunch: do not judge me.

But above all while constructing the paper all I wanted to do was go to Africa, the cradle of life. Specifically the areas afflicted with civil strife where the dwindling population of mountain gorillas lived.
Now keep in mind this was my stage of development post-Spice Girl appreciation but several years before my gothic whore phase, and so I might've been a little confused at my very best.

Yet regardless of the interesting looks I got that year when I replied "A primatologist" after adults would ask me what I wanted to be when I grow up, I held fast to my wish to travel into the African midst.

Then, puberty finished off, high school came around, and the only exotic greenlands I was interested in came from Josh, the local dealer.

I pretty much forgot about my fascination with Africa and the mountain gorillas until earlier this year when my uncle, a big man in the pediatric AIDS field, said he was going to live and work in Kenya for the better part of the year. He told me that my cousins and aunt were going to join him there and, aware of my earlier interest in the African landscape, invited me to come along.

Strangely, although my mother won't let me go more than a three hour radius from home to attend college, she consented to letting me go visit my uncle in Kenya with little to no alcoholic encouragement.

I was shocked, excited, and when I heard my flight would be landing in Amsterdam before transferring to Kenya, I was interested in the best smuggling techniques.

Though for the first few weeks of travel arrangements I was almost certain something would prevent my trip, now, only a month away from my prebooked flight I can hopefully safely say that I'm going to Africa.

Now all I have to do is get inoculated for about eleven different diseases in order to avoid death and other such uncomfortable ailments on my trip.

But a few shots in exchange for getting the chance to knock out one of my lifelong dreams after less than a decade of yearning, well that isn't bad at all.