Monkey magic

So, as promised, here is the first edited installment of my 'Monkey Diaries'. Apologies it's taken a while to put anything up but I've been 'otherwise engaged' over the last couple of days. More of that in the fullness of time. For now;

Monday 10th January, 2011


10.15am

I am on the coach to Tzaneen having landed at Johannesburg airport this morning. My first ever long haul flight was not a disappointment. For someone who is used to the 'Easyjet' way of flying, something as simple as being able to watch a film while 35,000 ft in the air is like living in 'Tomorrow's World', except without the terrible 80s hairstyle or the robot butlers we were promised.

The flight also gave me the chance to sample my first ever airline meal. The general view on these things seems to be that they are an affront to God himself, such is their poor standard. I have to say I enjoyed my chicken with celeriec mash, followed by a vanilla fudge sundae and washed down with a G&T and glass of Argentinian red. However, the full English breakfast this morning was a TRAVESTY. There was a chewy, salty slab of something resembling bacon, a forlorn looking sausage, an object I believe once used to be a tomato and what my tastebuds just about managed to tell me was scrambled eggs, but my eyes could not find any previous reference. I'm almost ashamed to say that I wolfed it down though, as my hunger won out over my food snobbery.

So far the journey as a whole has been a breeze. A pleasant enough flight ('Breakfast of the Damned' aside), a minimal amount of time going through the passport check - which made a mockery of all the paperwork I had brought and was told I would categorically need - and even a minor hiccup when my taxi driver, Henric, couldn't find me at the airport hasn't spoilt things.

I have made one friend already. A kindly looking silver-haired lady from Holland, who is volunteering at the foundation for 6 weeks. She seemed surprised and a little jealous when I said I was there for 3 months. I resisted the urge to say 'Yeah, that's right. Hardcore.' as we do not know each other well enough yet for her to be subjected to my less than subtle attempts at humour. I shall have to wait to find out more about her as we have opted to sit in seperate aisles for this journey. To be honest it suits me as I only managed an hours sleep on the flight and after two straight nights of 'farewell drinking' it was far from ideal. Time for some shut-eye I think.

1.10pm

Over the last hour or so I have been introduced to the world of Leon Schuster. His deeply unfunny, almost certainly racist world. Leon is an 'funnyman/entertainer', though I use those terms loosely, and the passengers on the coach have had to sit through a film in which he 'stars' called 'Mama Jack'. The premise of this film is so tedious I cannot begin to bring myself to explain it, but it involves Mr.Schuster's character, a white man, disguising himself as a black woman, before wading through a series of woefully predictable situations where his true identity is almost revealed. It was awful. And Lenny Henry did a much better job of it years ago with 'True Identity'.

The one positive to Leon's prattling about keeping me awake is that I do get to enjoy the view. South Africa is stunning. As we've ambled northwards away from Johannesburg we've left behind the office blocks, garishly 80s-looking shops and roadside tradesmen (I have never seen so many people on the side of busy roads before - either handing out leaflets for their business, just having a sit down or, most alarmingly of all, answering the call of nature, seemingly oblivious to all the traffic whizzing past behind them) and I'm now seeing the Africa I've seen on the television. Rolling hills, vivid green valleys and scorched red earth, all under a white hot sun.

It will be interesting to see how I deal with the heat. For a long time now I have been convinced that my core body temperature is a couple of degrees higher than most people's. I have been referred to as a 'boy-radiator' in the past. In hot restaurants or bars, it has not been uncommon to see me 'get a bead on'. This is a completely different level of heat altogether, but I did buy a new hat at the airport so I'm sure it'll be fine. It has 'World Cup South Africa 2010' written on it. I have never looked more of a tourist in all my life.


Tuesday 11th January 2011

9.55pm

The end of my first full day at the foundation. Today I have been taken through the orientation, which consisted of a talk on what to do (essentially, be nice to the monkeys, don't get bitten by snakes) and what not to do (not be nice, or stand between a mother and her baby, apparently) and a tour around the site. My God, it's massive. They have over 550 vervets on site, including 12 orphaned babies (so far). The monkey troops are kept in different enclosures that are surrounded by high electric fences. Bolted on to these enclosures are 'introduction cages' where previously orphaned monkeys are put to, as the name suggests, introduce them to the troops in the hope they will eventually become integrated. Some are occasionally allowed in to the main enclosure to see how they interact with the troop. Monkeys are often wary of newcomers so it's a very slow, gradual and often painstaking process. Often monkeys just will not be accepted, either because the troop doesn't want them or they have certain traits, usually due an event that happened to them before coming to the foundation, that mean they find it difficult to interact with other monkeys. Or, as one member of staff put it in her thick Australian accent, 'Some of 'em are just arseholes'.

There are three main sections at the foundation. The 'Top Section', 'Middle Section' and 'Bottom Section'. Not the most imaginative, granted, but fairly practical. My first real shift was on Middle Section. Tasks included cutting grass with a hand-scythe to feed the monkeys with (manly), refilling water bowls, distributing dry food (a sort of wheat-based pellet) and disinfecting the introduction cages with a natural pesticide. I was told to taste it, along with the pellets, and I can honestly say that, despite the bitter after taste, I would rather eat monkey food and natural disinfectant than ever have another British Airways breakfast.

After the shift on the middle section came the fun part. Sitting in with the orphaned babies. They need more or less constant attention, 24 hours a day. During daylight hours volunteers and staff feed them, treat them for any ailments and of course play with them, while at night two volunteers have to sleep in the baby cabin (thankfully, the babies are placed in carry cages overnight) and are on hand should any of them awake and require feeding or care.

I was warned that the babies are more intimidated by men than by women and that it may take some time for them to accept me. When I arrived at the cabin, sure enough the babies made a bee-line for a member of staff, looking for her to protect them from this strange, scary man. I sat down next to another volunteer whom I was replacing on shift. She had two orphans on her lap, Nicky and Milko, curled up asleep and hugging each other for dear life. She lifted them up and, still asleep, placed them on me.

A few minutes of total monkey bliss ensued. Me, grinning from ear to ear at finally meeting these delightful creatures face to face, Nicky and Milko, blissfully ignorant of the whole situation. The others remained wary. One would come up to nibble at my toe (they see the toe as the furthest part from your face, a tail of sorts. If intimidated by or unsure of another monkey, they will 'test the water' by grooming the tail first as it's the part furthest away from the face and, of course, the teeth) then, a baby I have since come to know as Ruby, took exception to me touching Nicky and Milko and jumped on top of them to protect them. The staff member told me to let her do her thing, then after a while try stroking her. This I did, and after an unsure couple of minutes, Ruby fell asleep on my lap. I was ecstatic. Earlier, during my orientation tour, an adult female called Colin (I know) had offered herself for grooming. The staff member had said she'd never seen such a positive reaction to a stranger before. You can imagine my pride...and now this. But, just as I was about to pronounce myself some sort of Doolittle-esque monkey charmer, Ruby stirred from her slumber, groggily looked up at me, screamed in sheer terror and bolted to the other side of the cabin. I have since learnt that raising your eyebrows at the monkeys is seen as a sign of aggression. It's natural for us, well me, to raise our eyebrows when talking to animals, so this is something I'm going to have to remember. I'm back with the babies first thing tomorrow, so hopefully my blossoming friendship with Ruby will continue.