Some choose years, some choose chapters, I choose seasons to group my life experiences. If my first six months in Kenya were “Just The Beginning”, then my second six months were “Drought” as I spent at least half without running water. This season of time has a different name. I call this season: Yelling at Monkeys.
Visitors come, and they remark about how “cute” and “cheeky” the monkeys are. They giggle when monkeys peer and even knock on the window. They want to feed the monkeys food.
This makes me want to punch visitors in the face.
I have never been so violated or poorly treated by any animal on God’s green earth as monkeys. To date they have stolen: 1,249,359 bananas out of my kitchen, an entire jar of newly opened peanut butter, and just this morning I noticed my necklace tree is missing…with ALL of my necklaces. God help the critter I see waring my Tree-Of-Life pendant. (Update: as I wrote this three little girls from the neighborhood brought back the necklace tree with only one necklace remaining. They found it in their bushes this morning. The remaining necklace is one I bought in Africa…I guess the monkeys are into imports)
Let me paint a picture. You come home from a long day at work. It’s a running day, so all you’re thinking about is dropping off the puppy and slipping on some sneakers. You unlock the door and see a snake of poop in the living room. You look down at your innocent puppy with confusion. Did she have an accident before we left in the morning?
You walk around the far side of the couch and begin to notice other things: two chairs overturned, more feces, urine stains, banana peels, the empty apple bowl, the homemade granola canister on the floor having thrown up most of its contents, flower sacks ripped apart. Delilah (the puppy) is loosing her mind trying to eat all the spilled goodies. You brace yourself for the bedroom, just imagining what has happened in your bed. Apart from another string of crap, granola sprinkled everywhere, and paw prints on the walls the room looks ok. You crate the puppy who is making noises you’ve never heard before and even gets her paw stuck in the bars so you have to enter her crate yourself to rescue her. You grab a broom and begin the clean-up.
As you clean, you notice your pecans from America, a whole container of raw cashews, and all of the peanut butter from the house is gone. Not spilled, or open, just gone, containers and all. The bleach spray is used on every surface in the house. You say a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving the monkeys choose to defecate on floors and not upholstery.
You vow to never leave a window open again. Until you do and the self hatred becomes almost unbearable.
So, yes, every time I see a “adorable” monkey, I unleash all the fury raging within my soul towards these audacious and irreverent thieves. And don’t even think about asking me if you can feed them. I’ll leave all your worldly possessions outside my window as an offering.
March 30, 2019 at 11:28 am
Ouch!!! I will never look at monkeys in the same again.
March 30, 2019 at 1:38 pm
I’ve always wanted to hold a monkey. But I’ve never wanted one to come in and trash my house! Monkey proof your house, girl!