Great Apes (54 page)

Simon, for the first time since his breakdown, felt relaxed enough to drink strong liquor. There was something about the maverick anthropologist that he found peculiarly reassuring. It was as if, confronted by a female chimpanzee who
really
believed in the sentience of humanity, Simon was able clearly to apprehend what it might be like for him to abandon such a conviction.

There was that, and there was the anachronistic ambience of Camp Rauhschutzas well. Despite her vaunted spirituality, Rauhschutzran the place along the lines of an old colonial district commissioner. The bonobos who waited on them at table made no signs to the white chimps save to ask if they were finished, or if they would like more. Otherwise they skulked in the shadows. When they addressed Rauhschutz, they denoted her ‘Baas'. When she addressed them, she used either their first names – as if they were sub-adults – or simply summoned them with a curt, imperious pant-hoot.

‘We are on the cusp,' she went on conducting as they worked their way through the fish, ‘of a catastrophe of enormous dimensions, a catastrophe that we, as chimpanzees, will live to regret fervently –'

‘And that is “h'huu”?' Simon couldn't prevent himself from snapping.

‘That is, my “grnn” human friend, the extinction of your psychic conspecifics in the wild. Yes “HoooGraa” within fifty years there will almost certainly be no humans left in the wild, and gone with them will be our chances of redeeming ourselves spiritually. We would do well to remember what Schumacher gestured: If chimpunity wins the battle against nature – we will find ourselves on the losing side!'

As Rauhschutzfingered, it became apparent to all the English chimps that she didn't altogether
mind
the prospect of chimpunity being on the losing side, that she had gone so far in her drive to identify with the mind of the human that she had lost sight of some of the more basic chimpanzee virtues. Apart from the requisite cursory grooming session on their arrival, Simon noticed that Rauhschutz hardly touched at all. Her signing was all airy-fairy, none of it truly inparted. More than that, despite the automatic rifles her camp bonobos ported and the refugees scuttling down the road from Nyarabanda they were intended to fend off, the hideous massacres that were going on to the north were of no concern to her.

If she put the finger on them at all, it was only to mark some irritating fall-out from the apocalypse, in the shape of shortages of supplies, or inconvenience of travel, or – and this
really
exercised her – danger to her rehabilitated and wild human groups. Even Simon found this callous disregard for the lives of millions of her fellow chimpanzees hard to stomach, but worse was to come; because there was a caste conflict underway that
did
really upset Rauhschutz, a conflict that she thought more important and vital than any other, and that was the one between her and the international anthropological hierarchy.

‘They “hooo” denote me an ugly dyke,' she stabbed at them. ‘They imply that I have sexual relations with my humans “euch-euch”. Isn't this just typical. Isn't this always the way that they ignore and debase females in our society “h'huuu”? I care too much about animals – therefore I must be mating with them, because, being female, my desire for sex is everything “wraaa”! So, at one fell stroke, they discredit me – and they condemn my humans, my beautiful humans, to an ultimate wilderness – a wilderness of extinction “wraaaf”!'

As if responding to this impassioned cry, there now came an answering, but far deeper vocalisation from the darkness of the surrounding jungle. A cry, which to Simon was at once remote to the point of being alien, and hauntingly familiar. All the chimps fell signless and novocal, they turned in their seats to muzzle the approximate direction of the creature who had given voice. Busner signed for all of them, ‘Show me, Madam Rauhschutz, is that one of your humans now “huu”? We haven't seen any since we arrived.'

She took a long pull on her cheroot before replying, and when she signed, the accompanying vocalisations were in the form of dribbles and poots of grey smoke, that dangled from her rough chin fur like temporary beards. “‘Gru-nnn” yes, that will be the humans, Dr Busner, the poor humans. The wild ones here at Gombe range far and wide, but the ones I have “chup-chupp” personally rehabilitated tend to stay near to the camp. In the late afternoon they swagger several miles off to an isolated bay, for bathing activities. They are now returning to make their night shelters. If you “aaaa” listen carefully enough, you will hear the other members of the group responding.'

The chimps squatted still novocal and signless, and listened as they had been bidden. Simon felt his hackles rise, and clutched his glass of schnapps tightly. He concentrated on the whirring of the night-time sounds, the pulse and chirrup of cicadas, the tiny whoosh of moths, then he heard it again, “Fuuuuuuckooooooffff-Fuuuuuuckoooooooffff.” It was so strange – Simon looked around the table at the other chimps. All of them were intent on the human's calls, but did they – as he did – discern within those deep, harsh cries the anger and despair that he could. They showed no sign of it.

“Fuuuuuuckoooooffff-Fuuuuuuuckooooofff,” a different human responded. Then another responded to this second animal, then a third, then a fourth, until the deep burbles of sound were coming crashing in like agglutinative waves.

This went on for some minutes, then slowly died away. There was a last, slightly higher-pitched “Fuuuuckoooofff” then novocal. Rauhschutz, a great grin pasted across her muzzle, conducted the table, ‘ “Gru-nnn” the human night chorus, possibly one of the most awesome and profound noises there is in nature. Once heard – it is never forgotten. We are “chup-chupp” so privileged, my allies, to be able to witness this. Those humans were once confined in zoos, or experimental compounds. They have been infected with chimpanzee diseases and abused by chimpanzee keepers – now a chimpanzee has got them their freedom “HoooGraaa”!'

‘ “H'huuu” please, Madam Rauhschutz,' Busner flicked respectfully, ‘did that particular set of calls have any meaning?'

Rauhschutzgrinned at this enquiry and countersigned, ‘Yes, it does, Dr Busner. That is the human nesting vocalisation. It's a tender exhortation by the male humans to the females, saying that the night shelters are prepared and it is time for mating activity to begin. And, ladies and gentlechimps, it is “h'hoooo” time for nest for us too. Welcome once more to Camp Rauhschutz. Dr Busner, I will expect you and your “grnn” allies to be up at dawn. Biggles ranges some miles from here and you will need to make an early start. As for your contingent, Mr Van Grijn, I have a very thorough programme arranged for you too “HoooGraaa”!'

With this final pant-hoot, the maverick anthropologist drummed on the table top, vaulted over the veranda railing and disappeared into the stygian night, two of her tough bonobos flanking her. There was the sound of rustling in the undergrowth and she was gone.

Around the still novocal table, the members of the Busner–Dykes group exchanged meaningful looks with one another. The same thought scampering through all their low brows, brachiating in the cellular branches of their brain tissue. Could it be that Ludmilla Rauhschutz really did practise what she preached? That the male humans' cries were a summons for her – as well as their own females? That Rauhschutz, even now, was engaged in a perverse act of interspecific mating?

Busner, Dykes, Knight, Higson and Bob the gofer got bipedal, and presenting low to the Dutch chimps and the bonobos who were still lingering in the shadows, they picked their way back across the still warm expanse of muddy compound to their quarters.

Once safely inside, Busner lit the gas lamp and without any preamble they engaged in a speedy round of mating. It might have been the tense atmosphere during the meal, or the still tenser atmosphere that prevailed generally at Camp Rauhschutz, but whatever the cause Janet had within the last couple of hours begun to show – even if only very slightly, and she was more than willing to be covered by the males. Simon, thrusting, tooth-clacking and coming in a matter of seconds, was just as speedily calmed. After the crazy antics of the anthropologist, and the still acquiescence of the Dutch animal rights fanatics, it was beautifully reassuring and soporific to lie in the disordered embrace of a post-coital grooming session. It was all they could manage to find their own nests and crawl under the mosquito nets before sleep enfolded them.

Simon awoke, as was the diktat of the camp commandant, at dawn. Before he was aware of whether it was light or not, he heard the sounds of the forest, the yammering of baboons, the chattering of parakeets, ibises and other birds, the guttural cries of humans – close by, and mingled with them the excited vocalisations of chimpanzees.

Flipping back the mosquito net, Simon leapt from the nest and pulled on his safari jacket. His horny feet clipping the concrete, he swaggered across the hut and, seeing that his allies were already up, swung open the door and plunged into the harsh grey day.

The scene that met his still encrusted eyes was at first difficult to take in. The compound was full of figures, the scampering setiform bodies of chimpanzees and the taller, more exiguous forms of their closest living relatives.

It was morning feeding time for the rehabilitated humans of Camp Rauhschutz. Over by the veranda of the main hut a feeding bin was set up. Two of Rauhschutz's bonobos were managing this resource. The humans, moving with their characteristic zombie-like bipedal gait, slowly emerged from the surrounding tree cover. They ambled across the compound and over to the bin in small knots of two or three adults and as many sub-adults or infants.

The bonobos, using long poles, then prodded them towards the bin. If any of the humans showed any indication of trying to get more than its fair share of the bananas, bread and figs on offer, the bonobos would cut them out from the rest of their group and poke them away from the bin, using quite vicious thrusts of the poles, or so Simon thought.

Those humans that had secured their share of the food were standing in disordered ranks at the very edge of the compound. There must have been at least fifty or sixty of the animals, although Simon couldn't be certain as the greyness of their skins made them difficult to pick out as individuals in the crepuscular light. There was that, and there was also the sight of their lumpen bodies and the languor of their movement. For a chimpanzee, used to observing fast-moving fingers and scampering limbs, the humans required a constant kind of double-take, to check that they were still there, still standing, knock-kneed, slack-jawed, arms akimbo, eyes glazed.

In amongst this throng of ghosts were moving some of the Dutch chimps. They rubbed up against the humans, and attempted to groom them. They uttered vocalisations that they presumably hoped the humans would understand in some way; low guttural cries that approximated to those of the animals. To Simon's eye it seemed that the humans were totally unresponsive to these efforts. As he knuckle-walked closer to the scene his furled ears began to pick out the vocalisations of one species from those of the other. The Dutch chimps were grunting and pant-hooting, lip-smacking and panting, trying as best they could to impress upon the humans the joy they were experiencing at being
in touch with them. While the humans, on the other hand, were merely garbling incoherently in their swinish way, “Fuckoff-fuckoff-fuckoff-fuckoff,' ” over and over and over.

Simon didn't have long to absorb this spectacle, for a familiar hand grasped his scruff and inparted, ‘ “HooGraa” morning, Simon, up early as Madam dictated!' Simon turned to see his alpha.

Busner seemed positively buoyed up by the ambience at Camp Rauhschutz, his muzzle creased with lines of intrigue and speculation. ‘Come,' he ran on, ‘ “grnnn” Madam awaits us on the main veranda, together with some of her “huh-huh” closer allies!'

They knuckle-walked back across the compound and swung on to the main veranda. Rauhschutz was there, wearing another vile mumu, together with a small group of humans. Simon felt quite unsettled by the proximity of the bald animals. He skulked along the edge of the veranda keeping his muzzle out. Rauhschutz was indulging in a kind of tea ceremonial, pouring out foaming tin mugs from a large aluminium pot and pushing them into the outstretched, swishing hands of the humans.

The humans did at least seem to be enjoying their tea. They knocked back the steaming fluid, their blunt muzzles pointing up to the corrugated-iron roof, heedless of the hot splashes that fell on their exposed teats. ‘Tea,' Busner gently inparted Simon's wrist. ‘Best drink of the day!'

Although the humans on the veranda were as diffident as their fellows across the compound, there was one who had some spunk. A short male with a red thatch of fur between his teats, and an equally revolting patch between his
tuberous legs, took advantage of the brief matitudinal presenting that was going on between Busner and Rauhschutzto grab the battered bowl of sugar from the table and upend its contents into his tight, pink-lipped mouth. This male then executed what passed for a turn of speed among humankind, by swaggering off the veranda. ‘ “Hooo” he's got the sugar!' Rauhschutzflourished, and all the chimps followed after the rogue male.

The sugar-stealer got an instant hit from his booty. This much Simon could tell by the way he began to stagger around in small circles, mewling and bellowing, “Fuckoff-fuckoff-fuckoff.” Busner, still at Simon's side, inparted, ‘I think his blood-sugar level will peak fairly soon – these creatures have surprisingly fast metabolisms. They are unused to any kind of stimulus. “Grnnn” coffee and sugar can have quite dramatic effects on them.'

Simon didn't know about dramatic – but they were certainly plain to see. The sugar-stealer now fetched up by the wall of the main hut; this he proceeded to muzzle and then rhythmically bash with his hydrocephalic brow, butting the resounding metal, “Bash-bash-bash”, as some giant tetrapod – an ox or a warthog – might butt a tree. Coming up beside them, the maverick anthropologist regarded the notionally rehabilitated human with an expression betokening nothing but frank admiration, before remarking, ‘ “Hooo” see, the force and accuracy with which he butts the wall. I think it fair to sign that he seems to have a profound comprehension of the laws of physics.'