I rolled out of bed a little early this morning to make sure
that I could say goodbye to each and every kid before they left for
school. Not even Minua escaped a
bear hug. Mauli buttoned up
Nestie’s school uniform, tied Emma’s shoes, and then helped me round everyone
up for our last photo. I’ll be
leaving today before they get home from school. I’m the only one with a tear in my eye as we hug before they
walk through the gate. As it
should be.
Edem arrived in a taxi, making good on his promise to take
John and me to the Tafi Atome Monkey Sanctuary. The long drive cost us a mere $12. The taxi ride, plus the $4.50 admission price for volunteers
was the most we’ve spent on any one thing since we’ve been here. I laughed at myself for the initial
sticker shock- $10.50.
As we climbed into the rust-ridden car, I thought about how
this little escape would have been much more welcome a week ago in the middle
of my stay when I needed some relief.
Leaving now, on my last day, it felt like a practice run. I turned to look out the back window
and felt my heart tighten as we pulled away.
 |
| Cow Pile + Highway = Nap |
Up front, our driver blasted Celine Dion so loudly that he
and Edem had to shout at each other to carry on their conversation. John and I mostly sat silently in the
back looking out the window, nudging each other now and then to point out
spectacles. One highlight was a
truck with three cows lying down in the back and two dudes napping on top of
them. When we turned onto the dirt
road we saw lots of people carrying very large, very heavy, and very random
things on their heads. One man
held an entire picnic table on his.
A woman carried on hers a wooden plank, a car tire, and a chicken. She also had a small child strapped to
her back, and buckets in each hand.
In addition to their loads, there is no place to actually arrive at for
a long while. These people carry
all those crazy things on their heads for miles and miles.
 |
| Long dirt road |
The bumpy dirt road finally led us to a small village with a
smattering of huts in various stages of disrepair and a few cement
buildings. We hopped out of the
car, stretched a little and then followed Edem past the goats and into one of
the cement buildings. No one was
there, so we waited. Edem left us
for a few minutes, and then came back.
We waited some more.
Finally a young woman with a head full of little short braids arrived
and presumably explained the pricing scale with Edem. He presumably corroborated our status as volunteers, and
then instructed us to each fork over our cash. The woman looked satisfied and disappeared. We waited. We looked at some photos of monkeys they had laying
around. We shuffled around a
little bit outside. And finally
the woman returned with an armful of miniature banana bunches, beckoning us to
follow her into the jungle.
She went first, followed by Edem, then the taxi driver, then
me, and John took the rear. The
path was narrow but well worn, and the canopy kept us cool and out of the
sun. It twisted and turned, and
the jungle started to get very quiet.
We kept going. At some
point on our walk a large sounding animal grunted and shrieked. John and I froze, looking at each with
wide eyes. Exactly what kind of
wild jungle monkeys are we going to see… and how large are they? The deeper we went, the larger I was
sure these monkeys were going to be.
Our Ghanians were nonplussed.
At long last, we stopped in a section of trees with lots of low
branches. Our guide started making
loud kissing noises, and we heard the leaves of faraway trees begin to rustle. Edem and the cab driver began to kiss
into the jungle, and the rustling got louder and closer, and we could hear the
monkeys snorting. When they
finally arrived, I was relieved to see that they were no larger than a
breadbox.
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| 3 little monkeys |
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| John feeding monkeys |
This was not their first rodeo. They sat rather politely in the branches near us and stuck
out their little paws. Some of
them preened and groomed each others brown, black, and white fur coats. Our guide got our attention and then
showed us how to pick a banana and hold it out to a monkey. The little guy would latch on, peel
away the top and eat right from your hand. Sometimes they’d peel the banana and then grab the edible
part and eat on their own, sitting back on their haunches munching away like
proud little old men.
On the long ride home I thought about how strange it will be
to go back home…
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