Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
come restless and overgroom. In zoos and sanctuaries, they are sometimes nearly naked, revealing
how similar their musculature is to ours, or at least how some of us might like ours to be.
My expectations were high. I'd heard stories of human-bonobo interactions, of bonobos blow-
ing kisses in zoos and staring into people's eyes. But Elykia forgot about me as she touched the
screen, selecting one of several lexigrams, none of which I could understand. Each time, Tyler re-
leased a grape through a slot in the wall, near the floor, to reward her. She scooped it with speed
and dexterity, barely pausing before refocusing on the screen. I couldn't imagine a human moving
so immediately in response to a stimulus; it was almost as if Elykia's body were doing the think-
ing. She touched lexigrams a few more times, and then, hardly looking, she shot her arm out and
captured a grape as it began to roll. If we humans have gained brainpower in our evolution, we've
certainly lost physicality.
After the session with Elykia, Tyler took me through the hallway to the outdoor enclosures, a
series of large cages attached by corridors of steel mesh to a yard of yellowed grass. Speaking as he
would to a person, he introduced me to an eleven-year-old male, Maisha (“life” in Swahili), who,
he explained, was basically a teenager. (Bonobos become sexually mature at nine but do not reach
their full adult size until after the age of fifteen.) From watching TV, Tyler explained, Maisha had
become obsessed with motorcycles. He didn't understand why he couldn't have one. In the same en-
closure was Matata, “tough” or “trouble” in Lingala, the group's wild-born matriarch, now at least
forty years old. She rested as Maisha ran back and forth, dragging his laminated sheet of lexigrams
across the ground. Seeing me, he threw a paisley cloth over his head and swung along the cage's
ceiling, playing the stooge, then raced out into the sunlit grass.
The differences among the bonobos—the distinctness of their personalities—was undeniable. In
the way she held her body, Matata exuded a wild energy, as if her limbs remembered the rainforest.
There was authority in her presence even as she dozed, like an old chieftain closing her eyes, barely
interested in people like me. She glanced only once before lying on her belly in the sun and going
to sleep. Finally, Maisha came over to greet me shyly, lowering his eyes, his fingers hooked in the
mesh of the enclosure wall.
Kanzi and his half sister, Panbanisha, whose name meant “cleave together for the purpose of
contrast” in Swahili, appeared more curious. As I spoke, I could sense Panbanisha studying me.
Her dark eyes peered into my own with a mix of wariness and curiosity that I'd seen on first dates.
Female bonobos have pink genital swellings that grow large and pillowlike as they mature, and
Panbanisha's was infected. I asked her how she was, and she stood up and showed me the inflamed
area, then sat and crossed her arms, staring at me, as if it might be my turn to reveal something in-
timate.
As for Kanzi, he was a handsome, well-built bonobo with a wide forehead and barrel chest. He
was used to media attention, and when I walked in and he saw my camera, he flashed a photogenic
grin and lifted a hand. I failed to snap him in time, and he sighed, appearing exasperated. He stud-
ied me, as if to determine just how interesting this encounter might be. After all, he'd played music
with Paul McCartney and Peter Gabriel.
Despite their relatively peaceful nature, I wasn't allowed into the enclosures. Bonobos are sig-
nificantly stronger than we are, and they can accidentally injure us. There is also confusion around
their putative benevolence. The media describe them as sexy, peace-loving creatures, but like us,
they can be violent. People are shocked to hear this, since there is a general tendency to simplify,
as when we think of someone as “nice” and imagine her, therefore, without anger or jealousy. The
