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| Orangutans at play in the Gunung Leuser national park |
As
I stepped down the embankment to the wooden boat that would take us up
river, Mr Mistar, our guide, made me pause. “She disappeared,” he said
in an ominous tone. I looked up inquiringly, waiting to hear more. “A
woman washing clothes. The crocodile ate her.”
With that, we
pushed off. I knew the trip to pursue wild orangutans in Sumatra would
be tough. Wading thigh-high in swamp was expected, as was the risk of
strange diseases. I hadn’t wagered on man-eating reptiles but nothing
was going to stop me now. Many years back, I was thrilled to encounter
feral gorillas in Rwanda – one even touched my shoulder. And so I
jumped when my brother-in-law, an expert on orangutans, offered to
arrange access to Asia’s only great ape. I was conscious that, at most,
only 6,600 orangutans remain in Sumatra. Scientists warn that this
close human cousin might disappear in a decade or two as a result of
the destruction of its habitat for palm oil plantations.
The
photographer and I travelled for two hours up river to our destination,
a research station called Suaq Balimbing in the Kluet swamp, where the
animals live unmolested. As we sailed past the pristine forest of
gigantic trees, Ellen Meulman, a Dutch researcher, identified hornbills
and the rare Storm’s stork. We saw kingfishers while indigenous
fishermen paddled by in dugout canoes, their wicker baskets filled with
river oysters. Mindful of Mr Mistar’s cautionary tale, I recoiled when
something reptilian slithered into the water. Thankfully, it was just a
monitor lizard.
Shortly thereafter a shout went out:
“Oranghutan”, the local word for “person of the forest”. Everyone
looked up. Sure enough, something hairy perched in a Neesia tree. The
boatman stopped the motor and we watched the animal nonchalantly munch
on the husky fruit.
Thrilled at such an early sighting, we
resumed the voyage only to come upon an awful scene. Flames crackled in
a clearing where palm seedlings awaited planting. “This was dense
vegetation a few months ago,” Meulman said, shocked. “It takes 70,000
years to grow a primary forest.”
Soon we arrived at the camp,
which consisted of two wooden cabins and a dozen researchers. A quick
dip in the river refreshed us until the photographer emerged with blood
streaming from his side. “Leech!” Mr Mistar exclaimed. Over a dinner of
rice and fresh catfish, the trackers discussed the various endangered
creatures that lived in these parts – sun bears, tigers, clouded
leopards.
“Don’t forget the reticulated python,” Mr Mistar added.
He held up a dinner plate. “One was this thick. It crushed and ate a
man whole.” Meulman changed the subject to orangutans. They only live
in Borneo and Sumatra, use tools to eat and fashion umbrellas out of
leaves. That, I thought, would be worth seeing.
The next morning
we set forth at first light, with leg guards to protect us from
leeches. “Wear long sleeves,” Mr Mistar advised. “They fall from
trees.” We plunged into the peat swamp, clinging to vines to stay
upright as our legs sank deep into the muck. “You’re lucky it’s the dry
season,” said Meulman, as the mud reached my hips.
The orangutans
had moved deep into the forest to seek fruit and it was slow-going in
pursuit. Every now and then the trackers would point to a big nest 30m
above. Orangutans are the only great apes that sleep in trees, to avoid
feline predators below, and they use nests only once before moving on.
These all appeared to be discarded beds.
Six hours and just as
many nests later, we still hadn’t spotted an ape and the afternoon heat
felt like a steam bath. We turned back for camp.
Days later, eager to get a close look at the apes, we headed
for the orangutan sanctuary in Gunung Leuser national park. Eventually
we reached Bukit Lawang, a village on the banks of the rushing Bohorok
River. We dropped our bags off at the Eco-Lodge run by the local
conservation group YEL. The cabins with private baths seemed luxurious
after sleeping on the floor at Suaq. With an approving look at the bar
serving chilled beer, we headed out for a three-hour hike in the
rainforest.
The path began through a rubber plantation before
winding steeply uphill. Silence was broken by the whine of a distant
chainsaw and the guide’s explanations about the local plants. “Liana
vine: heals the liver. Suli stimulates lactation. Pasak bumi cures
malaria. Rubber tree – good for family planning!”
Suddenly, we
saw a flash of copper fur, then two, 15 metres above. A mother and
child hung by their feet like furry laundry. The baby made a smacking
noise with its lips to signal fear, and the mum pulled him towards her
with one deft hand. They swung from branch to branch.
We stood
transfixed until the long call of a male reminded us that others
awaited observation at the sanctuary. We headed towards the feeding
station, where we were guaranteed a closer encounter. The spot
comprised a wooden platform, surrounded by primates from Australia. A
sound of crashing through the brush announced the arrival of a 4ft-high
orangutan with a tiny baby clinging on like a backpack. The mother
pushed past the humans, grabbed a bunch of bananas and stuffed them
into her mouth. Surely we should leave these wondrous animals alone, I
thought. The mother seemed to ponder the same thing. She trained her
intelligent eyes upon us and I imagined her thinking, “What went wrong
with evolution?” We stared at each other at a metre’s distance until
she disappeared into the thicket.
On the river path back to the
lodge, we encountered another pair of orangutans that had commandeered
a boat. They playfully swung from its ropes as the owner seethed with
frustration. Looking for a new challenge, the apes moved on to tease
sunbathers. The male orangutan put on someone’s T-shirt. His lady
friend, meanwhile, imitated a woman tanning on a rock.
After a
while, they tired of the fun and sauntered back into the forest. I
hoped that they would hide there for ever, far from the destructive
influence of humans.
Judith Matloff is the author of ‘Home Girl’ (Random House)
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