This was not the same ape that visited our house months back. The ape that dropped in on us then was so obviously an outsider, an outlaw perhaps, a male that would get killed by his troop if he were to return. This one was bigger and did not shyly gaze out at the staff and the little children as they went about their daily routines. This ape was on a mission.
When I returned home from work one day, I found that both my didis were still there. Odd, since one would always arrive earlier in the day and was then permitted to leave earlier. This didi decided to stay put, thanks to the ape terrorizing our block. They wasted no time in detailing the exploits of our friend. The tally (though not final one) was one bitten guard, two bitten women outside of the compound, and scores of people left horrified at this failed alpha male. Even our cat had decided that the place under a bed was her best option. Oh boy.
I do not have the same attitude toward animals as the Nepalis, and I doubt I ever will. I know what animals can do to people, and dying a hero while being gored is not a choice here. That said, I won’t deny people have pacified me a little bit. Case in point: I have carried out about a dozen cockroaches from my bathroom, whereas a year ago I would have just set up a trap or simply stomped on them. Here I would grab a tissue, quickly snag the bastard, and throw it off my balcony. A minor difference here: this is a primate ranking near the top of the food chain. There is no way I am going to use a tissue to fend him off.
I spotted the ape about an hour after the last of my staff had left. He was sitting on the wall, listening to the taunts of several teenage boys lingering in Lovers Lane. Hard to make out if you have an aggressive ape glaring at you. These boys were fearless, all standing in a group, more with a curious than aggressive attitude toward the ape. The ape himself was cool about all this. He had marked his territory inside my compound, and that’s where he would stay until somebody said he couldn't. I stepped outside, bamboo stick at hand and approached the yard, keeping a very safe distance from our ape friend. Surprisingly, he thought so little of me that the only motion he made would be a hop on the generator where he would again sit and size up the enemy.
Not feeling so brave, I stayed where I was, bamboo stick held in both hands. The ape must have honestly thought that the bigger threat had been presented to him by the ‘troop’ boys outside the compound. He picked a few insects out of his fur, then with a giant leap jumped into the adjacent vacant lot, never to be seen again.
The staff was given the day off following this terror. Later, I heard a foreign non-profit organization dealing with biological (especially animal) issues had captured him and transported him to a place I will never know of. You kind of have to feel for the ape too. He had so obviously been expelled from his troop at - no doubt - one of the temples around here that it had just become unfathomable for him to return. What does an ape naturally do? Establish his new territory. Problem: the fruits on the trees are gone once they are picked, and there are no females around, the worst thing that can happen to a male of any species. That poor ape was probably as terrified as we all were.
Selfishly, I don’t want to see an ape around here again. I will also not attempt to feed it in anyway, should that be required. I will also, to the best of my abilities, try not to whack it with a bamboo stick if it should attack. Unfortunately, the best odds for a lost ape are to leave, keep wandering, either until death or his unlikely induction into a new troop.
When I returned home from work one day, I found that both my didis were still there. Odd, since one would always arrive earlier in the day and was then permitted to leave earlier. This didi decided to stay put, thanks to the ape terrorizing our block. They wasted no time in detailing the exploits of our friend. The tally (though not final one) was one bitten guard, two bitten women outside of the compound, and scores of people left horrified at this failed alpha male. Even our cat had decided that the place under a bed was her best option. Oh boy.
I do not have the same attitude toward animals as the Nepalis, and I doubt I ever will. I know what animals can do to people, and dying a hero while being gored is not a choice here. That said, I won’t deny people have pacified me a little bit. Case in point: I have carried out about a dozen cockroaches from my bathroom, whereas a year ago I would have just set up a trap or simply stomped on them. Here I would grab a tissue, quickly snag the bastard, and throw it off my balcony. A minor difference here: this is a primate ranking near the top of the food chain. There is no way I am going to use a tissue to fend him off.
I spotted the ape about an hour after the last of my staff had left. He was sitting on the wall, listening to the taunts of several teenage boys lingering in Lovers Lane. Hard to make out if you have an aggressive ape glaring at you. These boys were fearless, all standing in a group, more with a curious than aggressive attitude toward the ape. The ape himself was cool about all this. He had marked his territory inside my compound, and that’s where he would stay until somebody said he couldn't. I stepped outside, bamboo stick at hand and approached the yard, keeping a very safe distance from our ape friend. Surprisingly, he thought so little of me that the only motion he made would be a hop on the generator where he would again sit and size up the enemy.
Not feeling so brave, I stayed where I was, bamboo stick held in both hands. The ape must have honestly thought that the bigger threat had been presented to him by the ‘troop’ boys outside the compound. He picked a few insects out of his fur, then with a giant leap jumped into the adjacent vacant lot, never to be seen again.
The staff was given the day off following this terror. Later, I heard a foreign non-profit organization dealing with biological (especially animal) issues had captured him and transported him to a place I will never know of. You kind of have to feel for the ape too. He had so obviously been expelled from his troop at - no doubt - one of the temples around here that it had just become unfathomable for him to return. What does an ape naturally do? Establish his new territory. Problem: the fruits on the trees are gone once they are picked, and there are no females around, the worst thing that can happen to a male of any species. That poor ape was probably as terrified as we all were.
Selfishly, I don’t want to see an ape around here again. I will also not attempt to feed it in anyway, should that be required. I will also, to the best of my abilities, try not to whack it with a bamboo stick if it should attack. Unfortunately, the best odds for a lost ape are to leave, keep wandering, either until death or his unlikely induction into a new troop.
