FIRST IMPRESSIONS
I like this house. It
is a lair within a moat of monkeys and parrots.
Dark corners connect via cracks in the walls, supported by mountains of
books. Tropical medicine, animal
behavior, primate anatomy, memoirs, classics.
The office looks like it was shelled during the Biafran war and has been
collecting dust ever since. A sign over
the door aptly reads ‘Beatings will continue until morale improves.’
“Madame”
The tornado responsible for the office. Oga explains to me that she comes from a
‘yelling family.’
“Oga”
In a tumultuous relationship with Madame. Running on little more than Star beer,
cigarettes, and his unshakeable convictions, frequent employer of hyperbole, a
great mess of contradictions, driven half mad by his own compassion for
animals, for humanity.
A pump-action sawed-off 18-gauge shotgun accompanies him
everywhere, even makes its way to the dinner table every night, like some
ominous lapdog sniffing for scraps.
Young men in uniform come and go from the courtyard at all
hours. They come to report intelligence
and short-comings, smoke cigarettes, get yelled at. A vague aura of confusion follows them as they
wander around, carrying AKs with fingers resting lightly on the triggers. This paucity of firearms safety nettles
me.
I’m struck by the same things as others from my part
of the world: an intense decency and hospitality, all within this wonderfully officious
framework of somebody always being up to something sneaky.
I’m invited at immigration into the office of the Big
Man. The office door opens opposite a
full-length mirror, the words, “ARE YOU WELL DRESSED?” etched into its surface. I am. I have made a point of it.
I'm welcomed every day by bright and enduring people with impeccable manners, am surrounded by beautiful tailored clothing, astonishing colourful fashion.
Things keep happening which baffle me.
The NGO runs a bush camp.
Ecotourism, community outreach,
habitat protection, that sort of thing.
Nearby villages supply many of the employees.
One day, two men come into town with a strange machine. They say that by hooking you up to the machine,
it can tell them what ails you, and for a very reasonable price only. Naturally, everyone signs up. As it turns out, these two men have somehow
managed to get their hands on a defibrillator.
A defibrillator. They unceremoniously defibrillate everybody
in the village, followed by the vending of snake oils to address what was
ailing them.
The whole story emerged up at bush camp, where staff
complained to management of feeling unwell.
Hot flashes, cold sweats, shortness of breath, wet coughs; just general
no-good to very-bad states of physical discomfort. Because they’d all been defibrillated.
Anyway, here’re some pictures of monkeys etc.
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| actually, this is a civet. the varmint in residence. |
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| chimp vasectomy |
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| chimp recovery from anesthesia is smoothed out with valium and a hug from Ade, Nigerian wildlife vet extraordinaire |
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| Nile croc |
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| drill monkey |
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| village of Buancho |
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| Add caption |
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| the vet lab, before i cleaned it out |
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| blue duiker |
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| drill monkeys |
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| skink |
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jumping on the bed with a baby chimp. what better way to start a morning?
it's important to note that this chimp was confiscated from the illegal wildlife trade, and is on her way to a forest sanctuary near Afi Mountain. Chimps are not pets! this really can't be stressed enough. |
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| baby mongoose. coolest animal of all time. |
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| young drill recovers from anesthesia |
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| weaver bird samples corn in the market |
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| in Cameroon |
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| a mona monkey surveys her surroundings |
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| transporting a patient on my home-made stretcher |
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