"I've had many close calls with death": the story of one man's lifelong mission to protect gorillas and communities in Congo.

"I've had many close calls with death": the story of one man's lifelong mission to protect gorillas and communities in Congo.

Mist hangs low over the forested slopes of Kahuzi-Biega National Park, where the canopy shelters one of the last strongholds of the eastern lowland, or Grauer’s, gorilla. This is a landscape of immense biological wealth and profound political fragility. For 54-year-old Dominique Bikaba, it was once home.

His family was among those displaced when their ancestral land was incorporated into the park in the 1970s. The protected area, in the lowlands of South Kivu in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), is home to elephants and a remarkable range of wildlife. But it is best known as the principal home of the Grauer’s gorilla, the largest subspecies of primate, which can grow up to 250kg (39 stone) in weight. It is one of five great ape species found in the DRC’s vast forests, including mountain gorillas, which also live in other parts of the Great Lakes region, such as Rwanda and Uganda.

For Bikaba, the founder and executive director of Strong Roots Congo, conservation has always been entwined with memory, dispossession, and survival.

He grew up on the park’s edge, close enough to remember walking in the forest as a child. “My grandmother used to take me to the forest, and we could see how the gorillas lived,” he recalls. His upbringing bridged different worlds: alongside his biological mother, he was raised by a Batwa (pygmy) mother and his grandmother. Much of his childhood was spent within the Batwa community, whose cultural and spiritual life is deeply rooted in the forest.

From them, he learned about medicinal plants, wildlife, and what coexistence means in practice. “My grandmother taught me to be ‘a man,’ but my pygmy mother taught me how to coexist with the forest,” he says.

At the time, Grauer’s gorillas were not yet classed as critically endangered. Gorillas and humans shared space in a wary but workable balance. “Sometimes they would come out of the forest and feed on our crops. Baboons would come for our bananas,” Bikaba says. It was an uneasy proximity, but not yet a catastrophe. War would change that.

Bikaba began his conservation work in 1992, at age 20, after finishing his studies. He responded to a call from community leaders to help mediate tensions between park authorities and people displaced since the park’s creation. Two years later, the 1994 Rwandan genocide triggered a mass influx of refugees into eastern DRC, fueling the first Congo war in the late 1990s, followed by the second Congo war. Fighting continues today.

The consequences for wildlife have been devastating. Before the conflicts, the eastern lowland gorilla population was estimated at about 17,000. By 2016, surveys suggested roughly 3,800 remained. “We do not know what the situation is with the gorillas right now. Maybe after the war we might be in a better position to observe them and see what has happened,” Bikaba says.

A 2016 IUCN report highlighted that widespread slash-and-burn agriculture and hunting for bushmeat contributed to the population’s decline—and the country’s ongoing conflicts have continued to aggravate the issue.

Bikaba speaks quietly of his own narrow escapes. “I escaped death quite a lot of times, but my friends and relatives were not so lucky.”

In 2009, he founded Strong Roots Congo to reconcile conservation with community rights around Kahuzi-Biega National Park. The organization worked alongside the Congolese Institute for the Conservation of Nature.Dominique Bikaba’s focus remained broad even as the Congolese Institute for the Conservation of Nature (ICCN) renewed efforts to protect the forest. “We wanted to go beyond these forests,” he explains, noting that local communities themselves advocated for stronger safeguards for gorillas and other species.

In late 2010, an expedition involving about 70 chiefdoms outside protected areas helped shape a more ambitious vision: to create a biodiversity corridor linking Kahuzi-Biega National Park with the Itombwe Nature Reserve. The goal—which remains today—is to secure one million hectares (2.47 million acres) for wildlife and Indigenous communities, reconnecting fragmented habitats while formalizing customary land rights.

So far, Bikaba’s organization, Strong Roots, has helped establish 23 community forests covering roughly 600,000 hectares. Through partnerships with international conservation groups, it supports communities in converting customary land tenure into legally recognized forestry concessions. This model reflects approaches tested in parts of Latin America, where Indigenous stewardship has proven compatible with forest protection.

“Importantly, we want to also improve the livelihoods of people,” Bikaba says. Here, conservation sits at the intersection of ecology and geopolitics. The park is both a sanctuary for species and a theater of conflict that has simmered for over thirty years.

This insecurity complicates everything. “We have never really had peace,” he says. His office was looted after M23 rebels captured Goma, and fighting has sometimes made field sites impossible to reach. A trip that once took 30 minutes by air from Bukavu to Shabunda can now stretch into a four-day journey through multiple transit points.

The planned corridor will not only protect other large mammals but also reconnect isolated gorilla populations, improving their chances for breeding and recovery. Crucially, it will be co-managed by Indigenous communities, whose relationship with the forest long predates colonial borders and modern conservation laws.

For Bikaba, who grew up on the edge of the forest and was shaped by displacement and tradition, the work carries a sense of restoration. “What we are doing is putting communities back together, so they can thrive together as they have done for centuries,” he says.

He is skeptical of conservation models that treat local people as threats. “Western conservationists say that Indigenous populations destroy the forest because they are poor, and there is a tendency to try to separate animals from humans,” Bikaba observes. “But humans are also part of nature. There is a lot of wisdom we can learn from the communities that live in the forests.”

As fighting continues in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, the future of Grauer’s gorillas remains uncertain. For Bikaba, the lesson of the past three decades is clear: “If there is one thing we should avoid in life, it’s war. If there is a way we can stop war in this region, we should do it. No matter the cost.”

Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about the story Ive had many close calls with death framed as questions a reader or viewer might naturally ask

About the Story The Man

Who is the man in this story
The story focuses on a conservationist likely someone like John Kahekwa or a similar figure who has dedicated his life to protecting mountain gorillas and supporting local communities in the Democratic Republic of the Congo

What does he actually do
He works on the front lines of conservation This involves tracking and monitoring gorilla families dismantling poachers snares providing veterinary care and working to create economic alternatives for communities so they dont need to poach or destroy the forest

Why does he say hes had many close calls with death
He has faced extreme dangers including encounters with armed poachers and militia groups in the conflictridden region deadly diseases like Ebola unpredictable wild animals and the inherent risks of working in a remote volatile rainforest

What motivates him to keep going despite the danger
A deep passion for the gorillas which he often describes as family and a commitment to his community He believes protecting the gorillas is inseparable from improving the lives of the people who live alongside them

About the Gorillas Conservation

Why are gorillas in the DRC so endangered
They face multiple threats poaching habitat loss from deforestation humanwildlife conflict and the destabilizing effects of armed conflict in the region which makes conservation work dangerous and difficult

How can protecting gorillas help local communities
Through conservationlinked tourism When tourists pay to see the gorillas that revenue funds park protection creates jobs and supports community projects like building schools health clinics and clean water sources It gives the community a direct economic stake in keeping the gorillas alive

Arent the gorillas dangerous to be around
They are powerful wild animals and can be aggressive if threatened However the conservationists use strict protocols to habituate them safely to human presence for research and tourism