Lost Mon-ki (eBook)

1

Obstinance and Oranges

The brown gorilla—young, muscular, and broad-shouldered—sprawled across a high tree branch watching members of his troop working on the ground below. The branch supported his ample belly, while his hairy arms and equally hairy legs dangled carelessly in the air. His half-alert black eyes wandered from ape to ape, waiting for them to get excited about something. But each one was fully engaged in the task at hand. Excitement was the furthest thing from their quiet minds.

The gorilla in the tree was not fully grown and was all the things carefree youth tend to be: impatient, frivolous, and self-absorbed. But because he was not a self-reflective gorilla, he realized none of these things about himself. He was too busy being lazy. He was also the son of the Alpha, which had led him to conclude that he was special and should not be required to work.

He let out a long, breathy sigh, loud enough for the gorillas on the ground to hear. Then he said loudly and for no reason, “There’s much less than nothing to do in this settlement. It’s boring, slow, and tiring. It’s the worst place there is.”

These were only the latest words of complaint from the little beast whose greatest concern at the moment was his boredom and the itchy leg that he scratched against the tree branch. It was a fat branch, wide enough to support him comfortably, some twenty feet above his laboring relatives. A few of those laden, sweating, swaying figures glanced upwards at him with irritation. Down on the ground, they shouldered the roughly woven baskets of newly acquired food supplies while he loafed. They found his behavior incorrigible and growled about it as they continued down the jungle path towards the sorting heap. But because he was the son of the great silverback who protected them all, they did nothing more about it.

This sort of complaining was commonplace with this particular gorilla. He was an adolescent, only about five years old. For the gorillas, who usually live to be about forty, it did mean, though, that he had no excuse. He was old enough to work with the rest of the troop. The other gorillas his age did. But despite the frequent cajoling by his father, the most he ever contributed was a few words of useless direction: go over there or put that here.

This is how the gorilla earned the reputation for being superfluous, and while I could continue to describe his bad behavior, it would be better to tell the story about how he became a different gorilla.

Before we go any further, we should note a few things of importance about our subject. It will help you make sense of things as we progress. First of all, if you do not have a map of the world or a globe, I suggest you ask your parents for one. Knowing something about the places on our planet will be of great use to you as you get older. Secondly, knowing a thing or two about the animals in our world is not just a pleasurable occupation, but it will make you wonder about many other important things as well. If you do not know how to get this information, just ask. The world is full of people who would like to help you.

So now about the subjects of our story: they are the great lowland gorillas of western Africa. They are bigger than us and are covered with brown and gray hair. You may know that already, but you may not know they live in the Democratic Republic of Congo, a country in the middle of Africa. This is why you need a globe or a map. Animals do not need them, but you certainly do. The Congo is a real place where people have had many interesting adventures.

If gorillas can talk, people are not able to understand their words. We will take some liberties for the purpose of this story. You should also know that gorillas are somewhat social creatures. You might have seen them at the zoo where they do little more than sit around and eat lettuce. In the wild, however, things are different. By “social,” we mean that they live together in groups quite happily, and they do communicate with each other, despite our inability understand them. They are more or less gentle animals. They do not eat other creatures except for bugs and caterpillars, and only then if they have nothing else. Their diet consists primarily of fruits and various plants.

Gorillas are generally peaceful and do not seek trouble with other animals. When trouble does come to find them, they will use their size and thunderous voices to frighten the threat away. If that does not work, they will gather up what sticks and swat the trouble until it leaves. If the threat is sufficiently great, they will move to a new area not already occupied by other gorillas.

That information will do for now. We should return to our particular gorilla and his own incorrect views of the way the world works.

As the troop continued to work on the ground below, the soft light filtered by the trees lulled the young gorilla into daydreams of adventure in the jungle. His arms and legs swung gently from the branch. His fur fluffed back and forth in the breeze. He was now almost napping and would have continued to do so for some time had not a great voice broken through his dreamy stupor.

“What are you doing up there in that tree? There’s work down here, and you’re wasting the daylight.” This was the bark of his father, who had heard about his son’s refusal to work and was, as usual, at the edge of his patience. “Don’t you see the troop laboring to bring in the fruits and shoots you love so much? You might think the other gorillas are your servants. But you’d be wrong. They’re your sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins. You disrespect them and me by hanging in that tree,” the silverback called up to him.

The little gorilla looked sleepily down at the hulk standing below him. The massive gorilla was now shaking his giant fist up at him. His father was always gentle with him, and so he did not move.

“Father, you’re the Alpha. And it seems to me they do serve us. They certainly do whatever you tell them to do. Besides, I only came up here to find thrashing sticks. I didn’t find one, and now I’m deciding what to do next,” the gorilla said, lying to his father to avoid trouble.

“I’ll be the one to decide what you’re to do next. Come down here and help with the sorting. I will not tolerate any more challenges today,” the silverback growled at his son. The gorilla was obstinate, but he knew the law of the troop. His father was indeed the Alpha: he was in charge of them all, and his orders were final. Any gorilla was free to disagree, of course, but he would have to fight it out with the silverback. The big gorilla had not yet lost a single challenge. It may sound unfair to settle things this way, but in the wild jungle, strength and decision-making matter. A weak settlement is ripe for attack or takeovers. Without a powerful leader to guide and protect the troop, none of the gorillas would survive long.

The little gorilla snuffled noticeably at his father and then sat up on his branch. Sorting was terribly boring: bananas in this bin, oranges in that bin, mangos in the one over there. The task was interminable. It always took him the entire afternoon to complete it. And every moment spent working was another moment he could not be exploring the jungle or raiding the human camps.

Oh, yes, he loved to raid the human camps. There were some very interesting things in those soft shelters the humans brought with them into the jungle. His heart raced with excitement every time he caught the smell in the air of the humans cooking their food. The aromas meant another expedition with new discoveries. It was where he got his burlap knapsack, a drinking cup, and his little sun stick. He had brought back many little treasures from his adventures, all hidden securely under his bed, but of all the things he brought back, he carried his most favorite with him at all times. It was his name: Mon-ki.

All gorillas have names. The mothers give them, for little gorillas spend most of the time around the females. Unfortunately for us, gorilla names are long and difficult for humans to make out. Some gorillas care about them, and others do not, but few had one like Mon-ki’s. His name was a human word that meant “valor” and “brave one.” This is not true, of course, but he enjoyed thinking it was so. It was the one human expression he had picked out from his little camp raids. It was a word they said repeatedly and loudly, fingers gesturing in his direction as he evaded capture. He imagined the humans were impressed with his stealth and cunning. Camp after camp, they recognized it and honored him even as they failed to detain him. He was a master thief, and among other things, he took their word and made it his name.

This was all in his head, of course. The humans were simply doing what you or I would do if this creature appeared in our tent. We would rush in, chase it out, and perhaps thrash it with a stick. We would also, like them, yell the word “Monkey!” to alert others that there was a troublemaker in the camp. If Mon-ki understood any of that, he might have been embarrassed by his silly thoughts, but since he was utterly convinced the humans were quite impressed with him, he insisted that all of the other gorillas call him by this word. Typically, they refused. This irritated him, but he thought himself to be an affable ape and did not hold the offense...