Memories
by Tessa Novak

She looked up to the night sky and wondered what those white twinkling points were. And always visible through the canopy of leaves covering her world when it was dark, unless it was raining. They moved, very slowly. Close one’s eyes, then after a while open them again and some of those points hid themselves behind the leaves. And that ribbon of pale light? And the white face that changed shape, that gave little light and no warmth, what was it? And the yellow face that made things visible and gave warmth and dried one’s fur after a rain shower? These moved too. What did it all mean? It saddened and upset her at the same time that she couldn’t come up with answers to such intriguing and at the same time disturbing questions.

Better for her if she were asleep now, like the others of her tribe, she thought. When the light returned she needed to be rested, the search for food, the little one she had to carry and who had to suckle regularly still, protecting it against the rough but well-meant invitations to play of the other young tribe members, and - what took most of her energy - keeping the imposing males away from her. They expected her to be receptive again. She experienced something best described as revulsion. She closed her eyes again and moved slowly in a different position, careful not to wake the little one sleeping by her side.

The nightly sounds of the forest kept her from falling asleep this time. She heard night birds, crickets, other nightly insects, slithering creatures, rustling of the leaves in the soft breeze, and then... very, very softly the movement of the speckled killer. Reassuring thoughts banned the feeling of panic. It is safe up here. Two males are on guard. They alarm the tribe if the risk becomes to great. And the branches are too thin for the hunter. It will not risk its own life high up in the trees for meager prey. Somewhat calmed, her thoughts took another turn.

What about the upright ones, the long and weak ones? They were killers too. The ones that one could hear from far away and flee them in time. The ones that swung gleaming fire sticks with loud noise or kept rocks in front of their faces. The ones that were not to be trusted, ever. The ones making strange sounds with their mouths, sometimes showing teeth in a threatening way but no violence ensuing among. So confusing. The weak ones, she thought again. Well hidden from view she had seen how one of the weak one’s tribe was killed by her tribe’s males. One of her own kind would have easily survived the ordeal. It would have dodged blows, bites, stones and dealt a few punches of its own. A few scratches and bruises perhaps, but the upright one...

She remembered clearly what had caused the males to become so violent. They did not intend to kill, it was punishment. One day the long ones had come in large numbers, yelling and wielding their fiery, noisy sticks. Many of her tribe had fallen from the trees, never to get up again. The remaining tribe members had fled in all directions. The upright ones carried her fallen tribe members away. She’d seen it all, sitting in the crook of a branch, hidden by thick foliage. Once they found each other again it was a very diminished tribe. They were agitated for days. Violence between them would erupt for no reason at all. And then that upright one had suddenly appeared as they were enjoying the late afternoon sun on an open spot in the forest. It did not carry a gleaming stick. It did not yell. It behaved proper, not looking any of the tribe straight in the eyes, deferential to both males and females. But as it held a gleaming rock in front of its face, the males became very excited. They all started screaming. She, the other females and the juveniles fled into the trees. The males attacked the weak one. Hitting, biting, ripping with their long sharp canines, throwing stones, beating it with sticks. It made no attempt to flee or to defend itself. It just covered its head with its arms. It never got a change, so fast en decisive was the onslaught. It lacked the speed and agility. It didn’t even scream. Bleeding, it fell and did not get up. The males screeched their victory.

Then suddenly everything got very quiet. Even the normal forest noises subdued. The males sat around the weak one at some distance. It did not move but it was still breathing, making rasping sounds. The ones who had fled descended and joined the circle. She went to sit closer to the fallen body than any of the others, at arm’s length. She looked at its face, full of flies feasting on the fresh blood. Then slowly, as if it sensed her nearness it opened its eyes and slowly reached for her hand. Those that saw what happened yelped with fright, and drew back but for some reason she was not afraid. She allowed it to get a limp hold on her fingers. The touch was not unpleasant, very much like the touch of one of her own kind. It tried to pull her closer. There was no strength, no threat whatsoever. She moved next to it and watched its face. It started to make the crooning sounds that she would make to soothe the little ones. It put her at ease. The hand stroked her arm. Then it stopped crooning and started making other sounds all the while caressing her arm. She noticed how its eyes suddenly moistened. The sight filled her with grief. She knew it was mortally wounded. It would die soon. It made more sounds and then with great effort pointed its arm in a direction behind it. She recognized the gesture and understood its meaning. Its eyes imploring, seeking understanding and confirmation. She tenderly stroked its soft curly hair, and then she slowly stooped and kissed it on the cheek. It grabbed her hand again, this time more forcefully. Then it convulsed, its face reflecting pain, fear, and desperation. Eyes closed now, it made a soft moaning sound, its face relaxed and its hand fell powerless to the ground. The rasping breath stopped.

Then there was utter silence for a quite a while. From the corner of her eye she noticed the males getting up, the females and juveniles following, moving slowly off into the forest. It was time to find something to eat before darkness came, time for nest-building and sleeping. She remained next to it, unperturbed by the smell of urine and feces, released by the body’s relaxed muscles. Occasionally she would caress its upturned cheek or stroke its hair. Then, when daylight was about to disappear, she got up and climbed into a tree. The dark was no time for her kind to be on the ground. It was already too dark to build a nest or even consider finding her tribe. She would have to stay perched on a branch all night long, and remain awake. The speckled hunter would surely smell blood and come investigating.

The morning found her on her branch, stiff from being in the same position for a long time. With tingling limbs she climbed down and found the weak one’s body untouched. Ignoring hunger pangs she began to collect rocks and put those in a circle around it. It made her feel good. It was more important than eating right now. She noticed that some of the rocks had blood on them. Those she put at its feet. Walking upright and carrying rocks was awkward. Instead she went on threes and carried one rock at a time. She was envious of the ease with which the upright ones moved and carried things. It took her quite a while to finish the circle. Once done, she stepped into the circle, stroked the soft hair one last time as a gesture of goodbye and then left the open spot, occasionally looking back.

She went into the direction that it had pointed to. It was slow going. One had to be very careful. All sorts of dangers lurked on the forest floor. There wouldn’t be warnings from males exploring the way in advance. She might encounter slithering things, stinging things, small things that crawled in great numbers, and big hunters. Her keen eyes, sharp hearing and smell as well as her extensive forest skills helped her. While going, never straying from the intended direction, she started to perceive a foul smell. It got stronger and it took quite some restraint not to turn back and go to the place where she expected her tribe to be.

Eventually she came to another open spot. The smell of death and decay was very strong. The grass was flattened and stained brown. Large swarms of flies everywhere. Strewn around were bones, pieces of fur, gory things she could not make out, and heads. While avoiding to step in the gore she went from head to head. Some were mutilated beyond recognition, others where whole. Those she recognized. Some looked peaceful, with eyes closed, others showed grimaces of terror and excruciating pain. All those heads once belonged to her tribe’s members. An almost inconsolable sadness and utter terror seized her. She sat down in the middle of the carnage and covered her face with her hands, unable to grasp the extent of what she saw here. Long she sat there, oblivious of the putrid smell, the grisly sight, the forest’s sounds, thus endangering her own safety. The speckled hunter would have had a very easy prey, had it been in the neighborhood. Then slowly the lethargy left her. She started to collect the heads, bones and pieces of fur and arranged those in such a way that they resembled bodies. She ignored the grime on her hands. When she was done she would find water to wash the filth off of them. It took her most part of the day to complete her task, ignoring the need for sustenance. She would eat later, perhaps the next day. Satisfied at last, she went from body to body, and, like she had done with the upright one, stroked each head lovingly, gingerly, all the time making the soothing sound.

She left the clearing and headed in the direction where her tribe would probably spend the night. After a while found some dry sand with which she rubbed most of the grime of her hands. It was getting dark when she smelled the familiar smell of her tribe. It felt good to be among her tribe again. Since then the tribe had moved far away and never saw long ones again. She had birthed several times and forgotten about the fateful events of those two days. And now, on this night the memories had surfaced again. They didn’t disturb her. The white points in the sky were not important anymore, just beautiful to look at. The little one stirred. She pulled it closer against her and it started to suckle. She felt happiness and fullfilment.

A local newspaper published the following article...

“MISSING AMATEUR PRIMATOLOGIST FOUND”

Today police authorities confirmed that the remains found earlier this week are those of Mrs. Z., an amateur primatologist. She was reported missing some two months earlier after she failed to return from a three day trek through the jungle to a place where chimpanzees could be observed regularly. Dental matching was required to verify the victim’s identity. She was attacked by a group of chimpanzees who beat her to death. The gruesome killing was filmed by her camera, that kept on running during and after the event. The recording enabled the authorities to identify the attacking chimpanzees as male. Furthermore, it recorded some extraordinary behavior of the chimpanzees afterwards. The images show some of the chimpanzees sitting in what appears to be a circle, their victim in the middle. They are looking at her. All violence seems to have gone out of them, experts declared after seeing the images. A female chimpanzee then enters the scene and sits down quite close to Mrs. Z. Mrs. Z. isn’t dead yet, because she can be heard breathing. She reaches out and touches the animal and starts talking to it. This is what she said verbatim: “Hello sweetheart. You are so beautiful. Talking hurts and I don’t think I have much time left, but I must tell you this. I am sorry that we meet under these sad circumstances. I don’t blame any of you. It is my own fault. I am so sorry that we cause you so much pain and grief. We are so violent and uncaring. You do not deserve this. Perhaps my death will change it. I sincerely hope so, otherwise I die for nothing. I have seen the place where the poachers butchered the members of your group. It’s over there. Go there and see for yourself. Then lead your group away from here, far way where we cannot find you, ever. Now I must stop speaking. I am in too much pain. Take good care, my beautiful sister.” Mrs. Z. then points in a direction behind her. The female chimpanzee did the first of a series of very unexpected things. She stroked Mrs. Z.’s hair and kissed her on the cheek. Mrs. Z. grabbed the chimpanzee’s hand, convulsed, and died, as can be clearly seen on the recording. The female remains sitting next to Mrs. Z. as the other chimpanzees are leaving the area. She occasionally touches Mrs. Z., stroking her hair. After some two hours she appears to be leaving. Then the camera switches off. It is one of those very sophisticated devices that can be set to activate itself on sound and or sudden changes in light intensity. It is also equipped with high capacity batteries, which explains why the device kept operating for such a long time. According to the date projected in the recording the camera switches on the next morning. It shows Mrs. Z. and the same chimpanzee. The animal collects rocks and places them around the body. Members of the search party stated that the rocks were lying in an almost perfect circle, with some blooded rocks at Mrs. Z.’s feet. Experts failed to explain the meaning and the chimpanzee’s behavior. They speculated about this being a burial rite. In the course of the investigation, police officers - as part of the search team - took finger prints. These served as proof for some of the chimpanzee’s other inexplicable activities. The last images show the animal caressing Mrs. Z.’s hair. It then leaves in the direction pointed to by Mrs. Z., looking back from time to time. Another remarkable fact was that the remains of Mrs. Z. were found undisturbed by scavengers, neither insects, birds nor mammals. The search team also went into that direction and reported finding the incomplete remains of at least twenty chimpanzees, killed with guns for bushmeat. The remains were all laid out to resemble bodies. The remains were arranged in neat rows with five bodies in a row. Fingerprints taken from that site form proof that this was also the work of the same chimpanzee. It seems a mere coincidence but since the fateful day of Mrs. Z.’s demise no chimpanzee groups have been seen in this area, well-known for its chimpanzee populations.