Kant’s Suicidal Attempt

Each day that I go out into the field is new, different, and exciting... Seriously, I’m not sure if it’s just my dumb luck or if all primatologists go through the same experiences as Katie and I have while watching monkeys. Take last week for example. We were watching group Odum on a trail that does not always provide the best visibility for monkey viewing; it is a narrow path and the majority of trees around it are covered in vines, which make it easier for monkeys – especially tiny infants – to hide. During one of my focal animal samples on the new infant Teddy Roosevelt, his mother Trotter, who decided that she was fed up with my obsessive constant staring at her baby, carried Teddy into the bushy vines at the top of a tall tree, which was several meters way from the path in the uncleared bush. In this case, the only available viewing area where I could still keep my binoculars pointed towards Teddy was right underneath the tree, at the base of the trunk. Considering I am a relentless monkey stalker (like all serious primatologists should be), I pushed through the spiny bushes and thorny branches and reached the spot where I could continue my focal.
As I continued watching, I noticed that Teddy and Trotter were not the only monkeys in that particular spot; it seemed to be a popular hang-out for the Odum family at the time. In fact, the small viny area was filled with several monkeys, including one of my other study infants Kant, who was relentlessly jumping back and forth between the tree’s branches and the vines. Although I was observing Teddy, I couldn’t help but notice the wild and sporadic way in which baby Kant flailed her body to and thro, clearly having the time of her life. Several minutes went by... Teddy was nursing and inactive, Kant was jumping from branch to vine, from branch to vine, from branch to ... At some point, during one of her leaps, Kant decided that she would not reach for the security of the vines! Rather, she let her tiny body free fall more than ten meters down from the tree and right on top of my head! I remember watching it happen – and for some reason having the reaction time of a senior citizen (no offense to the elderly) – and thinking how beautiful Kant looked soaring through the air. Her little arms and legs were spread out from her fuzzy grey body, giving her the appearance of a sea star. As she plunged towards me, getting closer and closer, Kant swayed from side to side while simultaneously, her body rotated like a pin wheel. When she finally made contact and we collided, Kant let out the saddest little whimper – high pitched at first but quickly became more like a low weak grunt, and it seemed like the impact had knocked the wind out of Kant’s tiny figure.
The last thing you want to do when an ursine colobus infant falls out of the tree – particularly if it falls on top of you - is to stick around to see if the baby is ok. Adult male colobus monkeys have been known to attack humans that happen to be hanging around an infant that has just fallen from the tree. When I finally got a clue and realized what was going on, I turned to Katie who was nearby and yelled, only slightly emphatically, “Run! Run now!”. At this point Katie had no idea what had occurred and in her confusion began making confused circles around the path, unknowing as to which way to go. One direction led away from the monkey group (i.e. away from danger), while the other direction led towards the majority of the monkeys, which included alpha male Gordon. I bolted past Katie in the right direction, away from Gordon (I may not be so dim after all) and told her to “Follow me!", which Katie did. Before any of the monkeys could clue in to what had just happened, we bolted the area, and fast. I’ve never run away from the scene as quickly as I did on that day.
When we returned an hour or so later, all seemed normal; the monkeys were resting and being lazy in a very colobine way, no one suspected us of anything (hehehe), and Kant was back up in the tree jumping around among the vines, clearly planning her next suicidal attempt. I just hope that next time she will not choose to plunge while I am situated underneath her!

Market Pervert

It seems that since we have been here, Katie has been getting the shorter end of the stick on numerous occasions (i.e. malaria, wasp attack, sprained bones), and last week’s market day (August 17th) was no exception. We had just finished our internet portion of the day, and we were on our way to the Cookie Lady’s stand to purchase our weekly ration of sugary sweets. The Cookie Lady is a tiny, plump woman who finds delicious biscuits and cookies that she thinks obruni girls with a sweet tooth (like us) would enjoy. Close to her stand, a man was urinating in the street without even the decency to turn away from the traffic and majority of people walking. As soon as he saw us and while his junk was still exposed, he began yelling and asking us various questions in Twii, interspersed with some phrases of broken English. Katie and I passed without making eye contact... I did say to him that “No way am I talking to you while you’re doing THAT”. Thinking back to the event now, I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all because it might have given him courage to do what he did next. He approached us at the Cookie Lady’s stand, grabbed and held Katie’s hand in his own hand (which a minute before had been stuffed down his crotch) and began asking her questions about where she was from, her marriage status, and other of the usual prying inquiries that are made by men around these parts. Katie pulled her hand away and uncomfortably tried to end the encounter. I tried to help by politely asking him to leave us alone. At this point he got angry, and out of the blue grabbed Katie’s breast! I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! Katie of course yelled at him to not touch her. I was about to punch him the face, or at least slap him, but decided against it. I’m not sure why I didn’t try to physically fight him, but I was also frightened... I did however began to push him as hard as I could and I yelled at him repeatedly to “Turn around and walk away!” For effect, I also added a few more colourful words in between breaths (wouldn’t you?), which caused him to become angrier. I think my outburst really surprised him because he seemed a bit confused and embarrassed after a few moments. I was still sticking my face in his face, yelling at him and pushing him away from Katie and I, when some people nearby, including the Cookie Lady, pulled the man away and forced him to leave us alone. Minutes later, Katie seemed ok and my adrenaline rush was beginning to fade. I still wish that I would have hit the asshole... How dare he do something like that? Nkoranza is a small place and I only hope we don’t run into the pervert again. If we do, he better watch out because next time I don’t think I would be able to control my anger and I would surely be more violent.

Hippo Trip from Hell

In early August, Katie and I decided that all of our hard work in the past few months had recently been making us sluggish and tired in the field and that an extra day off to do something more fun than go to market and clean data was a good idea. We had both wanted to visit the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary in the North of Ghana. Wechiau is quite far from where we live; it is almost near the Burkina-Faso border and an entire day’s travelling time is needed to get there and an entire day to get back to BFMS. Our plan was to sleep one or two nights at Wechiau, go on some guided river tours to see the North Ghanaian wildlife, which would have hopefully included hippopotamuses, and return to our monkeys refreshed and ready to tackle on another month of hardcore data collection. I had heard pleasant things about the hippo sanctuary and although we were in the midst of the rainy season (we were unlikely to see hippos during this time because they are better at hiding their giant frames when there is more water in the river) Katie and I were stoked to go. The trip there was incredibly long, sweaty, dusty, and dirty. We left BFMS at 6:00 am, took one tro-tro, then a shared taxi, then a large over crowded bus, and two more tro-tros to get to Wechiau. The last of our tro-tro broke down in the middle of nowhere in the pitch darkness, and while Katie and I waited for another tro-tro to pick us up, we ate a delicious dinner consisting of onion crackers, hard boiled eggs, and Laughing Cow cheese. The starry night sky was amazing from that spot! By the time we finally arrived to the Hippo sanctuary, my skin, hair and majority of my body were caked with the red Ghanaian dirt and soil that had been constantly flying through the open windows of our transport vehicles. I even had red dirt in my belly button... I have no idea how it got in there. I admit that upon arrival, Katie and I were disappointed with the accommodations. I had reasoned that since Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary is sponsored by the Calgary Zoo it was bound to have nicer accommodations than the BFMS Monkey Sanctuary. However, the hippo sanctuary accommodations were by far much more, shall I say, simplistic than what Katie and I are used to. We arrived in the night and since there was no electricity and due to the most numerous mosquitoes I had ever witnessed in one area, Katie and I were not able to pump water and to take bucket showers than evening. Our room was small, with two low beds and make-shift mosquito nets. It was clear that the bedding had not been changed in a while and given the mouse fecal matter that covered our beds, I assumed we weren’t the only occupants of the room. After putting on long pants, socks, and a shirt, after adding a protective layer of deet all over my body (on top of the thick layer of dirt), and after bumming a smoke from two other tourists that were also staying the night (cigarette smoke keeps the mosquitoes away so don’t judge me), I tried to sleep. It was hard to do so however, since our door didn’t close or lock properly and outside the room I had just spotted with my headlamp the eye shine of a fairly large, tall, and fast moving animal. This unidentified mammal had not been afraid by me shining the light in its eyes; quite the contrary, it had been aroused by my presence and it had begun to move closer towards me at a quick pace. My response was to swallow the toothpaste I was using at the time to brush my teeth, turn on my heels, and bolt for our room, closing behind me the defective door.
The next morning after surveying our “camp” in the light of day, I realized that although we had been told that we would be able to cook our own food, there was no stove. There was however, a cute little coal-burning low fire hole. Is it just me, or when someone tells you that people have the advantage of cooking their own meals, you would assume that they would provide means of cooking that is user friendly for tourists and not just for local Ghanaian people who cook their food on small coal-burning devices? In addition, the dishes they provided were still dirty from previous visitors. I found myself struggling to figure out how to start a tiny fire so I could heat up some water for a cup of tea. Forgive me but I haven’t done this as often as I should have while camping in Canada. I usually let other people, usually men, start the campfire. I don’t mean to be sexist but in my experiences camping, it often seemed like men are more eager to take on the responsibility of starting the fire pit. At this point in our mini vacation I was regretting my prior disinterest in starting campfires. After some time, I did receive help in making a cooking fire, from one of the tourist guides. He was also quite embarrassed about the dirty dishes... I guess it was his responsibility to see that the dishes were cleaned. When our own tourist guide arrived (later than he had promised the night before) to take care of our wildlife tours he came with shocking news. The river boat drivers had not been paid the month of July, and in the new month of August they refused to take tourists on any river safaris to see hippos! Katie and I were very disappointed and I was also very angry. We had come all this way... We decided to leave Wechiau immediately and to make the day-long trip back to BFMS. Although we managed to persuade the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary committee to reimburse some of our money (not all), which we had spent on the room we slept in one night, there was still a lot of money we had spent on the transportation getting there and back. What’s more, I ended up getting a cold a few days later, most likely from a guy sitting next to me on one of our buses, who seemed very ill as he coughed the entire trip.
That evening, we were glad to be back to our home away from home at Boabeng-Fiema Monkey Sanctuary. Although we didn’t get the kind of break we were hoping for, our attempted mini vacation did make us more thankful for the kind of lifestyle we lead here at BFMS. At least we have electricity (most of the time), a little gas stove, and no mice sharing our beds! We were relieved and happy to be going back to the forest and the next few days seemed like a nice vacation compared to our hippo trip from hell.

Theodore Roosevelt Reincarnated

Weeks after two of my study infants (Obama and Remus) were killed by infanticidal males, I was still feeling pretty low. Honestly, I had not expected that I would be this affected by the death of two monkeys (they are only animals after all... but then again, so are we), and I was having a hard time trying to cope with all that I had seen. For a few weeks I had unpleasant dreams about what happened. Even during the day, while running or while following monkeys in the forest, my mind often wandered to flash-back images from those few days; me cutting into Obama’s tiny body with a razor when I collected the tissue sample, watching the infants struggle to hang on to their mothers while travelling, watching them fall from trees, etc. I am actually quite baffled by the extent of my reaction to all of this... Even as I write this blog and I bring back some of those memories (almost a month after the infanticide) my tear ducts are still struggling to remain tearless. How pathetic eh? To use one of Katie’s favourite sayings, “I need to get my shit together”! Lol
In addition to the emotional repercussions, the infanticidal deaths also negatively affected my study. For the purposes of my Masters project, the infanticide had seriously hurt my infant sample size. Without Obama and Remus, I was left with just two smaller grey infants in group Odum (Kante and Nietzsche) and three older black-and-white infants in Wawa (Chomsky, Marx and Imanishi). By late July, no new infants had been born and I was beginning to panic a little bit. However, it seems that the local deity, god Dowarro of Boabeng and Fiema had answered our prayers because on July 30th we found a brand-spankin’ new infant in group Odum. He must have just been born the night before because he was rather pinkish in colour than white, and his eyes hadn’t even opened yet! Katie was the first to spot the little guy. I immediately began jumping around, hugging Katie, and making a lot of unnecessary noise, which likely would have scared all the monkeys away had we been watching a less habituated group, and had I not noticed my irrational behaviour and subdued my ecstatic outburst in time. Since the new infant’s mother is named Trotter, a name starting with the letter T and following the current name theme (spiritual, political, philosophical, anthropological critical thinkers) needed to be chosen for the new baby. Katie suggested Theodore Roosevelt and I always liked the name Teddy, so the new ursine colobus monkey baby was baptised Teddy Roosevelt. We have been collecting behavioural data on Teddy for the past three weeks now. His mother is quite skittish and Teddy is sometimes hard to see because Trotter spooks easily and hides from us more often than other colobus mothers have done in the past. Teddy is already growing so quickly! A bit of his fur has started turning grey (around his mouth, ears, eyes, and on the top of his arms and legs) but he is still predominantly white and – in an extraterrestrial sort of way – he is cute as a button!