Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
The film crew's advisor was Ian Redmond, the zoologist and conservationist who, when work-
ing with Dian Fossey, had discovered Digit's decapitated body. He went on to become a leader in
the campaign to ban the trade in African elephant ivory, found UN-GRASP, found and still lead
the Ape Alliance, and serve as the ambassador for the UN Year of the Gorilla in 2009, which fo-
cused on conservation issues, education, and advocacy for gorillas. He had participated in over fifty
documentaries for the BBC, the National Geographic Society, and the Discovery Channel, among
others. As he and I sat in bamboo chairs beneath a tree in the camp, I asked questions and he shared
knowledge gathered from his thirty years working with great apes. Later I read one of his essays,
in which he states that the rapid dwindling of the great ape habitat was “not the result of a concer-
ted effort to eliminate them,” but “a case of collective negligence.” He goes on, “The hard reality
is that the relatively small sums available for conservation are no match for the massive economic
pressures to exploit or destroy ape habitats. And the 'haves' can hardly point the finger of blame at
the 'have nots' . . . whilst ignoring their own role in the equation.” His words echo the point that so
many topics on the Congo make, reminding outsiders of their role in the difficulties here.
A few days later, as soon as the film crew left, Sally, Michael, and I went into the forest for the
last time on the trip. We found the bonobos quickly, a dozen of them feasting on the leaves of a tree.
They sat just above us, their testicles and vaginal swellings hanging as they stuffed their mouths.
The younger ones appeared fascinated by us, the older females largely indifferent, giving us only
the occasional glance. We were with them for several hours, until finally, one by one, they went to
the edge of a large limb and grabbed a branch on a nearby tree, pulled it closer, and jumped.
I followed a juvenile as he traveled low in the foliage. He seemed to find me entertaining and
went ahead a short distance before stopping and watching me approach, his dark eyes gleaming.
Then, when I got too close, about a dozen feet away, he moved deeper into the trees before stopping
again and observing me work my way through vines and brambles, as if nothing could be more ri-
diculous than how humans get caught up in the foliage, tripping and crawling.
The next day, Sally and Michael went back to sending reports and grant applications through
the BGAN, the portable Internet system that had failed us for most of the trip. Using the sat phone,
Sally called the company to discover that the besieged Syrian government had blocked satellite In-
ternet communications, since rebels there were using the same equipment to create off-the-grid In-
ternet networks. Each time the company unjammed the Immarsat network, the Syrians blocked it
again. Finally, after repeated calls on the sat phone, Sally was online. She and Michael had told me
that they usually treasured their time in the field because they could get away from the computers,
but on this trip they felt as if they'd hardly left the office.
Over the last week, storms had repeatedly blown through, but on our next-to-last afternoon, the
inside of the hut darkened and a damp wind gusted in the spaces between the wattle and the thatch.
A few loud drops struck the roof before the onslaught began, one of the heaviest downpours I'd
ever seen. I leaned in the window, gazing from beneath the gushing eaves. Puddles gathered, rivu-
lets saturating the earth until it could hold no more. A stream formed, rushing, six feet wide, finding
every declivity as it crossed the camp. The current deepened, pouring toward the main road where
dark water already rushed in the wheel ruts. The two streams joined within seconds, gouging the
road, digging a trench that wound its entire length to the small river below the village.
Michael had looked burned out all day, working on reports, but now he stood in the door, his
face radiant, as if he could finally breathe, as if there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
