The Sweetest Tambaby: A Lifetime of Love, Trust, and the Wild Calling Her Home
By someone who has known her from her very first breath to the moment she took her own in the forests of Africa.
There are some beings who walk—well, in Tambaby’s case, knuckle-walk—into your life and leave an imprint so permanent, so tender, that no amount of time or distance can erase it. Tambaby is one of those rare souls. Sweet, soft-eyed, impossibly expressive Tambaby, the gorilla who has been part of my world for as long as I can remember.
She isn’t just “a gorilla at our sanctuary.”
She is family.
She is memory.
She is a part of my childhood, my work, my purpose, and honestly, my heart.
And to this day, she remains one of the sweetest, gentlest spirits I’ve ever known.
This blog is for her—and for the extraordinary journey that led to her stepping back into the forests of Africa, where she truly belongs. Because @theaspinallfoundation isn’t just another wildlife organization. It is the only organization in the world that has ever sent captive-born gorillas back to the wild—nearly 80 now successfully rewilded at our projects in Gabon and Congo.
That number isn’t just impressive; it’s emotional.
It is living proof that love, dedication, patience, and respect can rewrite what the world thinks is possible.
And Tambaby’s story is one of the most beautiful examples of that.
Growing Up Together: My Life With Tambaby
Some people grow up with dogs or cats. I grew up with gorillas.
It sounds bizarre to anyone hearing it for the first time, but in our sanctuary—where every individual animal is treated with dignity, trust, and affection—it was completely natural. I learned to walk around the same time I learned that gorillas communicate with their eyes. I learned emotional intelligence not from school, but from observing gorilla body language. I learned patience because a gorilla troop will always take its time.
And somewhere in that swirl of wild lessons and unusual normality was Tambaby.
I don’t clearly remember the day she was born—I was too young—but I remember the first time I realized she recognised me. That spark in her eyes. That tiny rush toward me. That soft, hesitant touch on my arm. Those are the moments you don’t forget.
She was adorable—huge round eyes, a tuft of fuzzy baby hair, and hands that looked too delicate to ever belong to an animal destined to become so strong. But it wasn’t her appearance that earned her the nickname “the sweetest Tambaby.”
It was her nature.
She was gentle.
She was sensitive.
She was endlessly affectionate—not just with other gorillas, but especially with me.
When she was little, she’d cling to my arm with both tiny hands, pressing her forehead against me like she was listening to the steady rhythm of safety. In return, I’d sit with her for hours, brushing leaves off her fur, telling her stories she didn’t understand but seemed to enjoy anyway.
Those early years were magical. I felt—still feel—so privileged to have grown up beside her.
Tambaby’s Heart: Trust, Innocence, and Quiet Courage
Tambaby has a softness that’s rare, even in our sanctuary filled with remarkable individuals. Her personality sits right between timid and brave, like someone who chooses kindness even when the world is loud.
She isn’t greedy like Kifu (though we love him).
She isn’t mischievous like Mwana.
She isn’t a queen-bee matriarch type, though she easily could be.
She’s the friend.
The steady one.
The gentle soul who watches, understands, and then joins with her whole heart.
When Tambaby trusts you, she trusts you completely. She’ll sit so close her breath tickles your arm. She’ll hold your hand without hesitation. She’ll follow you because she believes you’d never lead her somewhere unsafe.
And that trust comes from something deeply important:
At our sanctuary, every relationship with an animal is built only on love and respect.
Never fear.
Never force.
Never dominance.
Only trust.
The bond Tambaby and I share is the kind of connection that reminds you the world is bigger than language and logic. She doesn’t speak my words and I don’t speak hers—but somehow, we communicate perfectly.
A tilt of her head.
A soft grunt.
A gentle tap on my arm.
Eyes that hold entire conversations.
If you’ve ever looked into the eyes of someone who sees you—not your appearance, not your status, not your human chaos, but you—you’ll understand what I mean.
A Sanctuary That Believes in “Wild Belongs Wild”
People often ask how we can possibly let go of animals we love so deeply. They wonder how we say goodbye. They assume it’s heartbreaking—and it is, but not in the way you’d think.
Our sanctuary isn’t a place where gorillas come to live comfortably forever.
It’s a stepping-stone.
A bridge back to their rightful world.
A place where healing becomes freedom.
At @theaspinallfoundation, we believe something many people find radical:
Wild animals deserve to be wild.
Not in cages.
Not in exhibits.
Not in enclosures.
Wild. Free. Home.
And that belief isn’t just a statement—it’s action.
We are the only organization in the world that has ever successfully reintroduced captive-born gorillas back into the wild. Nearly 80 gorillas now roam the forests of Gabon and Congo because of this mission.
Knowing that Tambaby could one day be part of that almost felt impossible when she was small and clingy and shy. But I also knew she deserved more than we could ever offer in captivity, even with all the love in the world.
Gorillas belong under the canopy of the rainforest, not the ceiling of a sanctuary building.
They belong hearing the calls of wild troops, not the chatter of humans.
They belong with the earth beneath their knuckles, not platforms and ropes.
But rewilding isn’t simple.
It’s not quick.
It’s not just a matter of relocating an animal and hoping for the best.
Every single gorilla in our program goes through years of preparation—physical, social, emotional, and behavioral—to make sure they can truly thrive in the forests.
And Tambaby, to my joy and heartbreak, was one of the gorillas who proved she was ready.
The Day She Left for Africa
I remember the morning we prepared Tambaby for her journey.
The sun had just come up, soft and gold, lighting her fur like she was wrapped in her own halo. She sat near me as she always did, quiet, observant, holding my hand in that familiar way that made me feel six years old again.
We didn’t speak—but we didn’t need to.
Somewhere in her calmness, I sensed she felt the shift. Animals always know.
The team worked gently, carefully. She was never frightened. Never stressed. Her trust in us was absolute.
When it was time for her to go, she looked back once—as if memorizing my face—and then stepped forward without resistance.
That moment hurt and healed at the same time.
Because love isn’t keeping someone with you.
Love is letting them go when the world they deserve is bigger than the world you can provide.
And Tambaby deserved everything.
Life in the Wild: A New Chapter, Not an Ending
People often assume the wild is dangerous, unpredictable, or cruel. But for gorillas, the wild is home. It’s instinct. It’s freedom woven into every leaf, every sound, every breath.
In Africa, Tambaby joined a world she was always meant to experience:
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Real forest floors beneath her feet.
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Sunlight filtered through layers of giant palms.
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Wild fruit she could forage naturally.
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The company of other gorillas who spoke her language perfectly.
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A life where she gets to make her own choices, every hour of every day.
She wasn’t “released.”
She was restored.
Every update about her fills me with pride. She adapted beautifully. She bonded with her new family. She learned quickly, moved gracefully, and embraced everything the forest offered her.
Tambaby didn’t just survive.
She lived.
She blossomed.
She became exactly who she was always meant to be.
Why Tambaby’s Story Matters
Tambaby is special to me—but her story represents something far bigger than my personal connection to her.
Her journey shows what’s possible when conservation isn’t performative, but purposeful.
When the goal isn’t to display animals, but to free them.
When love isn’t ownership, but liberation.
Her life stands as proof that:
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Captivity doesn’t have to be permanent.
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Rewilding is possible on a significant scale.
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Animals born in human care can live fully wild lives.
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Soft, gentle beings like Tambaby can find their courage when given the chance to return home.
Her story is hope.
Her story is progress.
Her story is the heart of everything we stand for.
Tambaby, Always in My Heart
Even now, whenever I think of Tambaby, I see that sweet baby face pressed against my arm. I hear the little chirps she used to make when she was content. I feel her tiny hands—now long grown—curling trustingly around mine.
She will always be part of me.
I gave her love, comfort, companionship, and years of gentle presence.
But she gave me something even bigger:
A reminder of why we fight so hard for every gorilla in our care.
A reminder of why rewilding matters more than anything.
A reminder that love means wanting freedom for those you cherish.
Tambaby isn’t “gone.”
She’s just out there living her best life—climbing, foraging, exploring, thriving—in a world that was always hers.
And every time I step into our sanctuary, I’m reminded that somewhere, deep in the forests of Gabon or Congo, Tambaby is doing the same in her own way.
Wild.
Free.
Home.
Just as she always deserved.
