Chapter 5
A rooster crowed as they arrived. Camp Bonobo, as the tilted hand-lettered sign read, was a hodgepodge of ex-military army tents and makeshift huts constructed in the rich soil of terraces dug into a steep side hill. Hand dug stairways lined with rough hewn boards joined the eating area with the various sleeping areas as well as two rows of back to back porta-potties with a decked-in shower area between. On the lowest terrace, a few free-range chickens pecked in the dirt around some pig pens made of recycled pallets. The camp was sheltered from the sun and rain by large trees, their smooth fluted trunks disappearing high up in the forest canopy. The undergrowth had been chopped back to discourage snakes and insects, though it was a never-ending chore with flora constantly reclaiming the area. Rain water was collected in plastic and steel barrels strategically located around the huts; drinking water had to be carried in. The sound of a trickling creek could be heard through the dense forest surrounding them though it was down a steep embankment with heavy foliage.
The group was
met by a small entourage of African women and children, most of whom belonged
to the porters coming up the trail. The
women were dressed in Kitenges with matching head scarves. A Kitenge, the colourful African wraps also
known as kangas are similar to a sarong and can be worn as a skirt, a dress, or
folded to hold a baby across the back or even for breastfeeding. Kitenges are also used to cover doorways on
huts and fastened to walls as art work.
Mike Cooper
lived in the uppermost hut and enjoyed the pleasure of a large wrap-around deck
with large root wads carved out as chairs around a massive outdoor teak table.
A large mess tent was set up on the next lower terrace beside an outdoor
kitchen and eating area. The rough kitchen
was set up among the trees with soot covered copper and aluminum pots hanging
on criss-crossed twine stretched between the trees. Fresh laundry hung on lines and pallets and
crates were arranged to provide surfaces for food preparation with basins for
dishwater. An open campfire with large flat rocks surrounding it was
smouldering away with a large kettle of water coming to a boil. The shy Congolese girl they later came to
know as Christiana looked out from the tent, only her face showing as she
pulled the flap around her and inspected them.
Seated at a long
table in the eating area were a group of researchers. Mike introduced the people one at a
time. There was a tall freckled man named
Spencer with glasses and a shock of red hair.
Spencer Simpson and was a 20 year old graduate student from Germany. He
smiled politely and shook hands with both of the girls and with Roger who he
already knew. Seated across from him was
a young black South African woman dressed in a traditional brown kaftan with a
head scarf. Her name was Rebecca Nhaimbu. Mike absent mindedly touched her shoulder as
he introduced her to Patty and Celeste.
Rebecca smiled and after shaking hands and sharing a bit of small talk,
returned to her notes. There was also an
American woman named Kerry. She was the camp veterinarian and was in her mid thirties
with a twangy southern accent. She shook their hands and said she was very
happy that the girls had made it. Seated
at a different table, punching away at their laptops was a middle aged couple
from California named Ted and Amber. They
greeted the girls with a wave and warm smiles.
Mike continued
the tour on the third terrace. It was a
narrow shelf in the forest where a trail meandered for a couple hundred yards
in each direction, with a tent or a hut every 20 yards or so. Mike stood in the clearing, pointing at the tents
as he explained who lived where.
Mike was in his
mid forties with a healthy tanned complexion and a large frame. He was muscular in his upper body with a
thick chest and large biceps and his neck and shoulders were especially built-up
from years of back packing. Many years
of hiking around the Congo had kept him in good shape. “This one is usually for guests but you
ladies can have it.” He pulled back the flap so the girls could walk in. “I’ll leave you girls to get settled in”.
Inside the tent,
there were two cots, one on each end of the tent with bundles of banana leaves
tied into mattresses. Mosquito nets hung
from a hook on the ceiling. Nails had
been driven around the wooden pole in the centre of the tent where they could
hang clothes to dry. The tent had a
canvas floor over a sandy base which shifted under their feet as they walked. A
sheathed machete lay on each bed. Celeste
pulled back an inside flap, letting light in through the one screened window. She
rolled the flap up and tied it. The air smelled musty but not unpleasant. The
tent had a cheap plastic chair and table on one side with an oil lamp for
lighting after sundown.
“Home sweet home.”
Celeste smiled. Patty laid her backpack
on one of the cots and pulled a clean pair of cargo shorts out. Celeste changed
into a long turquoise kaftan and the girls joined Mike and Roger who were talking
outside. The shy Congolese girl was
sitting on the steps of a nearby tent watching.
“That is Christiana,”
Mike said, pointing to the girl who looked away, averting her eyes from the
strangers. “She’s a bit shy but if you need anything, she will get it for you
if we have it. She speaks mostly French.
She helps out around the camp.”
Christiana looked
up at the mention of her name. It wasn’t her real name but at least the
foreigners could pronounce it. After a
moment, she exchanged friendly glances and a shy wave with the new women and
then got up and went back to the kitchen.
She mostly worked with Madeleine during the day, an indigenous Congolese
woman who was the head cook and a force to reckon with.
The group finished
their tour in a small clearing where the porta-potties stood.
“This is where
you will find the washrooms and the shower area” he said, pointing at a small
decked area between the porta potties. The girls noticed two water pipes
plumbed into metal drums on the terrace above.
“Men shower in the evenings, ladies in the mornings.” Mike said.
“But anything goes
at midnight.” Roger laughed, half joking.
He and Christiana had showered late at night several times.
“Tomorrow we can
go up into bonobo country and find what we call the Alpha colony, our largest
group of bonobos.” Mike took his leave telling the girls that they were free
until they heard the dinner gong at about 6:00 pm.
The thought of
observing and reporting on wild bonobos in the Congo excited both girls. Both
of them had worked very hard to get to where they were and this experience
would launch their careers in a new direction for many years.
Porters arrived,
surrounded by an entourage of curious young kids, dropping supplies off at the
kitchen while Christiana ladled them all gourds of sweet juice. They took a few
minutes to rest and talk in the shade of the eating area, before heading off
for another load of supplies.
Celeste and
Patty returned to their tent to unpack while Roger stayed to shower. Little did he know as he lathered himself,
nor did he really care, that Christiana was watching him. She was squatted down
nearby in the underbrush, wishing for the night to come.
After a while, the
girls pooled their lawn chairs in front of their tent where they were joined by
several of the other researchers, using their one and only table to set drinks
on. Roger called Christiana over and introduced her to Patty and Celeste properly.
She shook both of their hands and brought them trays with cans of beer that had
just arrived with the new supplies.
The group got
into a lively discussion about bonobos, mostly for Patty and Celeste’s benefit. Patty, who knew far more about chimpanzees
than bonobos listened closely.
Roger was
talking, “Biologically speaking, you can’t get any closer to being human
without actually being a human. Bonobos
look and act more like humans than any other of the great apes, and they display
many of the same behaviours too.”
Kerry, in her
southern drawl, added her two bit’s worth, “The DNA of bonobos is 98.7%
identical to ours. Scientists believed
that chimpanzees and humans went their own ways about seven or eight million
years ago. Then in the 1930’s we
discovered bonobo’s and found out that we were hanging out with them as
recently as a million years ago. That’s yesterday in evolutionary terms. It’s
too bad no other species survived except us and them, but like it or not, they
are our closest living relatives.” She took a sip of beer and added, “Some
scientists are insisting we change our name from homo sapien to pan sapien.
Either that or change bonobos to a prefix of “homo” like homo paniscus. That’s
how close we are in terms of evolution.”
Ted and Amber
wandered over from their tent and sat down.
Ted opened a can of beer. He was a
round faced middle-aged man with sweat stains under the arms of his white dress
shirt. He was a senior researcher from
the primatology department at the University of California. Amber was a short
brunette in her early fourties, a zoologist from San Diego. They had met at a conference in Washington
several years before. At the time, she
was married and he was single. Though,
by the end of the conference, she was no longer married and he was no longer
single. This was their first field experience as a couple and it wasn’t going
that well. The rest of the group had grown very tired of their constant bickering
and petty arguments.
Amber weighed in
on the conversation, “The indigenous people in this area still pass down
stories from generation to generation about bonobos showing their tribes what
foods were available in the forest when they first got here.”
Ted added,
“Actually, the name "Bonobo" first appeared in 1954, when it was
proposed as the generic name for what they were calling pygmy chimpanzees. The name bonobo is thought to be a
misspelling on a shipping crate from the town of Bolobo.”
Amber rolled her
eyes, beginning one of their regular debates as she took his beer and drank
from it “Yes Dear, but the word “pygmy” had nothing to do with their size. It
referred to the local tribes of pygmies.”
“It could have
been because the bonobos are smaller than chimpanzees, the same way that pygmies
are smaller than humans.”
“No.” Amber was insistent. “We’ve have been through this before. The
term bonobo is the word for "ancestor" in Bantu, it’s been around for
thousands of years.”
“I’m not
disagreeing with you Honey. I just say we only started calling bonobos “Bonobos”
in the 50’s.”
“You say what
you want. I say bonobos have been called bonobos for a millennium or more.”
“I don’t feel
like arguing with you.” Ted took and cracked another can of beer.
The rest of the
group lost interest in the discussion and began to fidget. Fortunately, the dinner gong sounded and
people made their way up to the dining area.
