The history of gorilla conservation tends to be told through the stories of primatologists and park rangers, of scientific research and anti-poaching operations, of government policy and international NGO funding. These are real and important parts of the story. But there is another thread — less documented, less celebrated, but arguably more fundamental — that runs through the conservation history of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest and Mgahinga Gorilla National Park. It is the story of the women who live adjacent to the parks, who understood before anyone else what was at stake, and who built the community structures through which conservation became not merely possible but sustainable.
The Invisible Labour of Conservation
When researchers began studying the relationship between community welfare and gorilla conservation in the 1990s, they found that the communities most directly affected by park boundaries were not monolithic in their attitudes. Men and women, it turned out, had different relationships with the forest and different stakes in its protection.
Men’s relationship with Bwindi had historically centred on hunting and large-scale resource extraction — activities directly curtailed by the park’s gazettement. Women’s relationship with the forest was more complex and, in conservation terms, more ambivalent: women were the primary collectors of firewood, medicinal plants, and materials for craft production. They had intimate knowledge of the forest edge, the places where forest met farmland, the microhabitats where specific plants grew and specific animals lived. They also bore the primary costs of crop raiding — the midnight raids by gorillas, buffaloes, and elephants that destroyed fields and stored grain that represented months of household labour.
The Revenue Sharing Beginning
The Uganda Wildlife Authority’s community revenue-sharing programme, established in the late 1990s and expanded significantly in subsequent decades, began directing a portion of gorilla permit revenue — currently $800 per permit in 2027 — to communities adjacent to Bwindi and Mgahinga. In the early years of the programme, the management of these community funds was dominated by male-led local government structures, and women’s access to the benefits was limited.
What changed this was not top-down policy reform but grassroots organising. Women in communities around Bwindi began forming savings and credit groups — locally called “rounds” — that pooled small amounts of money to provide lump sums to rotating members. These groups, which had no formal legal status and no connection to any NGO, built social capital and financial literacy simultaneously. They also built negotiating power.
The Gorilla Guards: Women at the Forest Edge
In the early 2000s, a group of women in Buhoma — the community at Bwindi’s northern sector that receives the most gorilla trekking visitors — began organising voluntary patrols of the forest boundary. Their motivation was not conservation ideology but immediate practical concern: gorillas were damaging their crops with increasing frequency as the gorilla population grew and habitat pressures pushed groups toward the park boundary.
These women, working without equipment, without official recognition, and without payment, began mapping gorilla movement patterns, identifying the agricultural fields most vulnerable to raiding, and alerting park rangers when gorilla groups were approaching community areas. Their knowledge of the forest edge was more detailed than anything in the park’s official records. They knew which paths the gorillas preferred, which crops they targeted, which fields were most vulnerable in which seasons.
The Uganda Wildlife Authority eventually recognised these informal patrols and began working with them systematically, providing training and limited equipment. The women’s groups became an early warning system that significantly reduced crop damage and improved community-park relations. They had built, from nothing, a conservation infrastructure that no amount of NGO funding could have produced because no NGO would have known where to start.
Isingiro and the Craft Cooperatives
In Isingiro, on Bwindi’s southern edge, a different model emerged. Women who had previously collected plants from inside the park for traditional crafts — baskets, mats, and other woven goods — faced the prospect of losing their raw materials when the park boundary restricted access. Rather than simply absorbing this loss, a group of women organised a cooperative to cultivate the same plant species on community land outside the park.
The cooperative began selling crafts directly to tourists visiting Bwindi, cutting out the middlemen who had previously taken the majority of the commercial value. The quality of the work — which was exceptional, representing generations of accumulated craft knowledge — attracted attention from international buyers, and the cooperative eventually developed relationships with fair-trade importers in Europe and North America.
The economic success of the craft cooperative transformed its conservation significance. Women who depended on the craft income had a direct financial stake in the continued operation of gorilla tourism — and therefore in the continued protection of the gorillas. The connection between craft income and conservation was not abstract; it was the month’s school fees, the family’s medical bills, the savings that would buy a small piece of land.
Phiona’s Story: One Among Thousands
Phiona Birungi grew up in Rushaga, a community on Bwindi’s southern perimeter. Her family had farmed the slopes adjacent to the park for three generations. As a young woman in the early 2000s, she watched gorilla trekking begin in her sector and saw the economic transformation it began to bring — but saw also that the economic benefits were flowing primarily to lodge owners, national organisations, and male-led local government committees.
Phiona began organising a women’s group in Rushaga focused specifically on skills that gorilla tourism required: guiding, hospitality, cultural interpretation, and language. The women in her group learned English, developed community cultural programmes for tourists, and began operating a community-owned guesthouse that kept tourism revenue within the village. Phiona herself became one of the first female gorilla trekking guides in Rushaga — a role that had been exclusively male by custom if not by rule.
Today the Rushaga women’s tourism association is a model for community tourism enterprises across Uganda. It has been studied by researchers, replicated in other national park communities, and cited in international conservation literature. Phiona’s story is individual, but the pattern it represents is not.
Conservation Science Meets Community Knowledge
Perhaps the most significant contribution of women’s groups around Bwindi has been the integration of community knowledge into formal conservation management. The detailed ecological knowledge held by women who spend their days at the forest edge — knowledge about plant phenology, animal movement, seasonal patterns, and the subtle indicators of environmental change — was not being captured by any formal research programme.
Several conservation organisations working in the Bwindi landscape have developed systematic programmes to document and integrate this knowledge. Women’s groups participate in biodiversity monitoring, using protocols developed jointly with researchers that respect both scientific rigour and the practical realities of community life. The resulting data has enriched the park’s understanding of the forest edge ecosystem in ways that ranger patrols and remote sensing cannot replicate.
The Education Investment
One of the most consistent uses of income earned through conservation-adjacent activities — craft cooperatives, community tourism enterprises, ranger incentive programmes — by women around Bwindi has been investment in children’s education, particularly daughters’ education. This investment has a conservation dimension that is sometimes overlooked: educated women have smaller families, make different land use decisions, and are more likely to participate effectively in community conservation governance. The women who changed gorilla conservation with their bare hands have also changed it through the daughters they sent to school.
Recognition and What It Means
The contribution of women to gorilla conservation in Uganda has received increasing formal recognition over the past decade. Women now hold senior positions in Uganda Wildlife Authority community outreach programmes, lead several of the major NGOs working in the Bwindi landscape, and chair community-level governance bodies that manage revenue-sharing funds. This representation is not merely symbolic — it has changed decisions, shifted priorities, and produced conservation outcomes that male-dominated governance structures were not generating.
For visitors coming to Bwindi for gorilla trekking in 2027, the women of these communities are often the first Ugandans they encounter — at craft markets, in cultural programmes, as guides and interpreters. The encounter is usually brief, usually pleasant, and usually unaccompanied by any knowledge of the conservation history these women carry. It is worth knowing.
