I opted to do the watering by watering can, which meant I got to give the liquid of life to the kalalas (or passionfruit). While these thirsty plants were receiving their water, I noticed in the corner of my eye, something like a black ball of fuzz. Being a rather uncommon sight I went to investigate further. To my horror I had discovered an injured juvenile Howler Monkey. But I must admit my first thoughts were that this little bugger was dead.
Not quite sure what I was seeing and needing to share the moment, I yelled out to Jenny. The exchange went something like this:
“YOU’VE GOT TO COME SEE THIS!” I said
“Why? What’s happened? Jenny replied.
“I think there is a dead monkey.”
In mere moments Jenny was on her way and we were both standing dumbfounded at the sight of this tiny monkey. Within moments of Jenny’s arrival, we realized that we should check if he was in fact dead. With stick in hand I moved this precious little paw and we both noted that it didn’t plop down like it should if it were dead. And Jenny noticed it was breathing very quick, shallow breaths.
Without knowing really what to do and having a respect for nature, we opted to monitor the situation. This meant that I spent the rest of my time sneaking back to the kalala area to check on “Our Little Friend”. With reports like “our little friend twitched a bit,” or “our little friend is still breathing.” The hardest to see was the twitching. And all Jenny and I could do was watch as this little guy’s situation deteriorated.
With Martijn’s arrival late in the afternoon, we finally had an expert. I had just tried to set up a banana and papaya leaf for shade and food, respectively. But upon Martijn’s inspection we discovered our efforts and good thoughts were not enough. Our little friend was a goner. Sadly this also coincided with the arrival of two new volunteers. I had to give the “well this is awkward, but we have a dead monkey we need to go deal with”. So with these two new souls, we lifted up our wee friend to find a final place to bury him. We opted not to put him in the compost, but to bury him under the tree in which his family spent so much of his life.
So with my 10 minutes to spare before I left for my night shift at Cafe Campestre, Jenny and I buried the monkey. We found a little place and I dug the grave while Jenny held his little body with care. Once we had dug a significant sized hole, Jenny placed him in. I said some words to honor the occasion. The ones I feel most important are these “I am sorry little one for the end of your life. I want to thank you for your contributions during your life and for your what you’ll give back to the earth in your death”.
Truly it has been a surreal reminder, that life can be so wonderfully surprising when you open yourself up to the possibility (i.e. my day of adventure to the San Ramon waterfall) and also how quickly it can end. I spent about one hour in the afternoon watching those other monkey’s happily playing in the trees. I couldn’t get over just how cut and dry it all seemed. Watching the other monkey’s playing, eating, carrying their young.
While I will never know what happened to that little monkey. If he just fell out of a tree or whether it was natural selection at it’s meanest. All I know is that I won’t forget the feeling of seeing nature at it’s most natural and most callous. I also won’t forget having the time to observe the life and death of the monkeys here. What would my experience here be if not full circle?
That night at Cafe Campestre was a little bizarre. When people asked me how I was, I had a hard time not shouting out “I buried a monkey today. What about you?” While I think my refraining was appropriate, it still weighed heavily. All in all I guess I can just appreciate how important it is to live your life as you want it. One day you’ll be swinging from trees or praying to the travel fairy and the next day is an unknown.
I implore you to do the same. Live well. Do what you want to do with your life and forget about the rest. Life is too short.
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