The world according to orangutans
The world according to orangutans
19.08.2016
Bornéo
The world according to orangutans
Natural habitat
Jambu’s story is a true story. It is the story of a wild people disappearing before our very eyes, a people rich in culture and wisdom that we will lose forever if we do not act. It is the story of Borneo’s last orangutans, driven from their forests by oil palm planters and now crammed into reserves.
The nest
Through the curtain of cascading orchids, the orangutan anxiously scans the horizon of the Gunung Tarak forest. He stands twenty meters above the ground, finishing the construction of his nest on the fork of a main branch. His mother spent a long time showing him how to weave the vines and line his bed with twigs and moss to make it cozy. He even adds a roof of branches, in anticipation of the coming rain. Humans have named him Jambu. He is still a young male, whose smooth face with dreamy eyes reveals all the gentleness characteristic of his people.
The fire
Jambu was very lucky. Six months earlier, an arson fire had destroyed his entire world. His mother perished in the flames, along with his younger sister and many others. So, for days, Jambu wandered. He walked through the scorching ashes, stumbling over the charred bodies of his kin, searching in vain for tall trees to climb, but nothing, nothing remained.
In the distance, trucks were already crowding around the smoking ruins of the forest, while planters brought in the first oil palms—those trees with trunkless trunks and inedible fruit.
So Jambu ran as far as he could. He walked until his feet—so much like hands and so ill-suited for walking—were raw, until one evening he came upon a large rambutan orchard. He ate all night long, but when he returned the following night, the farmers greeted him with gunfire. Thirteen pellets pierced his skin. What had he done wrong? He was so hungry, and those hairy red fruits were so good! Besides, there were plenty for everyone. But no. They chased him away. So Jambu took refuge at the top of a kempas tree.
The Humans
Humans came and shot at him, just like the farmers. But when he woke up, he was cared for and fed in a very strange enclosed place. There were humans everywhere, big and small. They made lots of sounds and gestures, and they handled all sorts of strange objects, but they were indeed monkeys like him—just a different species! Those humans were kind, and not just to Jambu. From the enclosure where he was regaining his strength, he could see lots of little orphans. They were being cared for and fed, too, and even nursed when they were babies.
Gunung Tarak
Time passed, and then one day, they took him in a small crate to release him into another forest. He threw himself onto the first tree trunk, climbed to the top, and discovered a new territory.
The trees there are tall and dense, the fruit abundant, the bark delicious, and the landscape magnificent as he gazes out from his nest. Vines coil around the moss-covered trunks that rise toward the sky; enormous branches connect each giant to the next, like roads beneath the canopy that the orangutans travel slowly. There are three females with their young, working together as a team.
He watches them pass by peacefully, moving from branch to branch with deliberate movements, using their hands and feet to secure their grip. Around them, lighter proboscis monkeys leap from tree to tree. A rhinoceros hornbill with an orange beak greets them with a call.
It’s crowded here, Jambu thinks. Perhaps too crowded. He also spotted some young males this morning; he’ll have to face them soon, one after another, in fair combat. In the meantime, an elderly patriarch serves as a guide to them all. He is very old and was born here.
In the morning, his powerful roar—amplified by his goiter—provides them with all sorts of information. He announces where the day’s ripe fruits are: the large durians, the figs, and even the honey when there is any. Jambu listens and learns the cycle of flowering. He builds a complete map of the forest in his head; he observes everything around him closely, finding the healing plants and the tender bark his mother had shown him. He is happy.
The smoke
But images of flames stir questions in his mind that an orangutan shouldn’t ask. He sees that things are getting worse, that the real world is shrinking a little more each day, that his people are being decimated, that there are refugees everywhere. Some of them even imitate humans—they do laundry, saw planks, use a hammer, or steer a canoe. They’ve lived among humans for a long time!
Tonight once again, before the sun sets over the misty jungle, Jambu scans the horizon. Rain begins to fall on his cocoon of flowering vines. Little by little, his fear subsides. No smoke has risen on the horizon today—no fires, no threats. He turns around and curls up into a ball. And he falls asleep in peace until tomorrow…
One Voice is calling for the recognition of orangutans as legal persons—it’s urgent!