Monkey's Business

Despite our fatigue, my sister and I were understandably excited to go tracking chimps in the rainforest, especially since we had travelled a helluva long way in a stinking mini-bus and paid a lot of money to do so. As we ate breakfast, I looked at the other tourists that had signed up, We seemed destined to be saddled with a group of surly Dutch women with harsh expressions and short greasy hair. I couldn’t help thinking of the little dutch boy and what he could do with his thumb in this situation. They seemed to be complaining about everything, and I turned to my sister, rolled my eyes and said, "White people." " Are they Dutch or German?" she asked me. " I dunno," I replied, "They all look the same to me."

Luckily for us, our friend J.B. decided to guide us. We were leaving the Dowdy Dutch Dykes behind, so it was going to be just the two of us (we can make it if we try). I liked J.B., even though he was still ribbing us about the Black Mamba. He reminded me of Forrest Whittaker, except with no lazy eye, in fact he was fully binocular (with binoculars). I must say he was an amazing guide. He could identify birds by their calls and could often whistle out to them and get replies. I was so intent on the hike and all the birds and monkeys we were seeing, that I started to follow J.B. off the path at one point. "No," he said, holding out his hand like a traffic-cop, "Short-Call." I was a little embarrassed, as short-call is Ugandan terminology for taking a piss, and I was about to follow J.B. into the bush to help him do his business.

After about an hour and a half I was starting to worry whether we would actually see any chimpanzees. After two hours, I was starting to calculate how much money I had spent to get there and how much more cash these damn monkeys must rake in a month than I do. But then suddenly J.B. stopped and pointed up in the trees. I craned my neck and saw absolutely nothing. Just as I was about to smack J.B. for getting my hopes up, from high in the canopy came a low grunting noise that escalated and built to a screaming cry that echoed across the rainforest. From three other locations in the forest rose responding calls and the air was allive with the eerie, echoing correspondence. I felt a chill pass through me as I took in one of the most powerful auditory experiences I have ever encountered. "They are talking," said J.B. in case we missed it. I was pretty sure they were saying, "Look, the dumbass humans are back."

Anna and I watched as two chimps worked their way along the tree-tops, having breakfast and grunting in satisfaction. I was struck both by how large they were, and, as I presume most people are, by how human and familiar their actions seemed. At one point, the big male swung out, holding a branch over his head for balance, and stood facing us. "Short-Call," said J.B. I marvelled at the weakness of his bladder but moved to get out of his way, until with a spattering like raindrops, I realized he was talking about the chimp. And boy, could that monkey pee. A cascading, golden shower (of sorts) fell before us, steaming in the new morning sun (which brought a whole new meaning to Gorillas in the mist). "I wouldn’t want to be caught under there!" I joked with J.B. "Yes, That would be a warm shower," he replied in such a way that I couldn’t quite tell if he would have liked it or not. As we watched, something fell down through the trees into the undergrowth. "Long-Call," stated J.B. with a nod of his head. I looked to him for comfirmation. "Poop" he said, in case I had misunderstood the nomenclature. "I got it." I said. "Do you want to see?" asked our intrepid guide. I declined the opportunity.

After breakfast and his retinue of bodily functions, our chimp started to descend. Incredibly, he chose a route that landed him about two metres from our position. Luckily enough, my camera failed completely and I missed a fantastic shot. And I could have sworn that damn monkey stuck his tongue out at me. So I gave him the finger and said, "How’s that for sign language?"

We followed the chimp calls over to another tree where three chimps were grooming each other. I was engrossed in watching this while I slowly massaged my now aching neck. "David!" called J.B., urging me over to where he stood. Pointing at a nut infused mass on the ground he said, "Feces." I didn’t respond right away, so he said, "Poop!"... "I got it." I said.

Our time with the chimps was up, but I can’t say I was too disappointed. We had seen a spectacular show, and besides, the grumpy Dutch contingent had reached our location, so I wasn’t all that keen to stay anyway. We gave J.B. a healthy tip, which brought him smiling up to greet us for the rest of our stay. He must have thought I really enjoyed that poop.