Nowhere to Be
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Or $100 hand-delivery within 40 mi of Dallas · Details
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Nowhere to Be
To reach the Izuba family, you earn them. Hours of climbing through Rwanda's volcanic highlands in the rain, the trail dissolving beneath your boots into mud, the forest closing in around you until the world narrows to the few feet directly ahead. By the time you find them, you have been humbled entirely. And that, perhaps, is exactly the point.
The Izuba family is newly formed, still finding its shape around a single silverback and a sprawl of young babies. We had settled into the quiet work of watching them when she emerged from the undergrowth without ceremony. A young female who seemed to have decided, entirely on her own terms, that we deserved a proper introduction. She rolled across the ground toward us with an almost theatrical looseness, limbs going wherever they pleased, before arriving at her final position: flat on her back in the greenery, one hand loosely holding a reed she was chewing with the unhurried satisfaction of someone who has nowhere to be and no interest in pretending otherwise.
She did not look at us. She did not need to.
There is a particular kind of encounter with a mountain gorilla that stays with you not because of its drama but because of its familiarity; the unsettling, tender recognition of yourself in another creature's complete and total ease. She was not performing rest. She simply was at rest. In a forest she had never needed to fear, on a morning that belonged entirely to her.
The mud on my boots was already worth it.
Christina Trester
Christina Trester discovered photography long before she understood its power. A quiet obsession that began at thirteen, it would eventually reshape the entire course of her life. After a decade in corporate America, a transformative journey to Kenya became the turning point. A confrontation with the wild that she could not walk away from. In...
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