This month was marked by me declaring dead any monkey that
disappeared for more than a couple days. Luckily, I was mostly wrong.
Kool wasn’t seen for 10 days. She’s a juvenile in Tws, the
largest of the groups with 48 individuals, if the group stays in the forest it
is hard to see them all, but after ten days of not being seen I declared her
dead. The next day she showed up and of course, has been seen everyday since.
Half of Gsb went missing, three for only one day and Milo
for two, but I don’t have the highest of hopes when it comes to this group.
Once again, I am very happy to report that I was wrong. They have managed to
hold on against the odds. I talked to the forester and showed him the evidence
of poaching I found, he acted concerned but I am afraid nothing will actually
be done and the monkeys and us are on our own still. He did seem really
concerned when I told him pine and cypress were being illegally cut down nearly
everyday, maybe that will force him to take some action – trees equal money.
Lindy unfortunately is gone. This I was expecting and it was
really only a matter of time. Her mother, Lily, went missing back in September.
Lindy was the smallest of the 2007 infants. Amani and Darwin, her age mates in
the group, are still suckling occasionally and have grown quite a lot. Lindy
was just half their size.
But with death comes new life: On Christmas day I was on
baby patrol and checked on as many of the groups as I could. The assistants all
had the day off so I was the only one out. By mid-morning I was on my second
group and found the first infant of the season. Splash is now a second time
mother. Her first born, Speedo, is two and was very interested in her new
sibling. We don’t name the infants until they have reached one year of age but
the assistants have already come up with a great one, Shikuku. It means ‘a
great day’ in Luo and is typically used in reference to Christmas. I was
leaning more towards Snorkel to go with the theme but under the
circumstances...
In the last week there have been two more births. And more
still to come.
Unfortunately the survival rate for infants is quite low.
Last year there were 18 births but only 11 have lived to see their first
birthday and receive names: Aqua, Chaos, Kwanza, Quest, Sema, Dragon, Demo,
Mali, Pizza, Shimo, and Rein. I submitted the names Aqua and Chaos, but
personally I think the best name of all is Shimo. It means latrine in Swahili.
Shimo fell down a latrine hole during his first months of life while his mother
was feeding on soil around the outhouse. The assistants acted fast with a
plastic bag on a stick and brought the infant up safely where Spike, the
careless mother, snatched up her poop covered baby and ran away.
Blue monkeys can be terrible mothers. I see them slapping and
hitting their babies, we even saw Kamile open mouth threat her own child, and
they drop the newborns to the ground quite often. Tux did just the other day.
When the infants are first off on their own, trying out their new feet, they
are still tiny and look identical. When they scream one would expect their
mother to come running to comfort them or save them from danger, but I have
stood below a wailing infant waiting for the mother to come with the hopes of
identifying the tot and many times she just doesn’t show. As they become more
independent, the poor infants run a marathon to catch up to mom with the hopes
of nursing and she just casually walks away, an hour later the little guy has
finally caught up again but mom runs off without giving them even the slightest
bit of recognition. It is a miracle that any of them reach adulthood.
I have been hearing drumming in the forest behind my house
lately. Drumming all the time. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, at first it
coincided with the New Year and I figured people were just celebrating but then
it carried on into the next week and still continues.
There is a large glade surrounded by forest on all sides and
on one of the edges there is a lookout tower, it is unfinished but construction
has ceased and I don’t think it will ever get any higher than it is now.
Sometimes on my off days I go up there.
January 6th I walk down Mama Mutere trail and as
I am approaching the glade I began to hear the drumming, and as I leave the
forest cover the drumming gets louder. From the lookout tower I see birds
flying and swooping down on the north side of the glade but not much else – the
one time I am out in the forest without my binoculars and I really want them.
From my current position I can hear people singing along with the drumming, I
can’t actually see them but can tell they aren’t far, probably just inside the
trees on the edge of the glade. About an hour later, Winstone, one of the
guides, with two visitors on a tour of the forest climbs up to the top of the lookout
tower. He tells me they are drumming for termites. That’s it? Here I thought
they were performing some important ritual. He inquires if his companions care
to go out there to see the termites coming out and I ask to join.
Five young boys are seated on what used to be a termite
mound; they have completely flattened it and have directed tunnels that were
once underground into buckets to collect the termites. The vibrations from
drumming are supposed to draw them out; the singing I gather is simply to entertain
the boys as they drum. And it works, there are winged termites everywhere, all
of the buckets are full, and the few that have managed to escape and fly away
are becoming any easy meal for the numerous black kites swooping overhead.
Winstone takes a handful from one of the buckets and shoves them in his mouth.
Then all the boys do it and there are wings stuck to their checks. Next one of
the tourists tries it. Then they all turn and look at me. How could I say no?
Winstone had just told the tourists that I was one of them now, a Kenyan, after
they asked how long I was here for, and all the Kenyans had just enjoyed a
tasty termite snack. So I pick up one squirming termite and eat it. After I got
over the fact that it was still alive it really wasn’t so bad, it tasted kind
of nutty.
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