New pictures posted

As requested, I have posted some pictures of myself, proving that I actually have been living in Indonesia for the past 13 plus months. I finally exchanged photos with Luca, so please enjoy.

The porcupines are coming!

Last week, around midnight on another restless night in the forest I could not sleep. I thought I might climb down from my house and pee, when I saw a cicada half-hatched from its shell. I got my camera and was taking some pictures when I heard something noticably large coming down the path towards camp. It was a porcupine, and the first that I have seen since coming to Canguk. I took off after it and tried, very unsuccessfully, to take pictures in the dark. After he ran into the thick vegetation behind camp I headed back to my house and put up the camera. Then, I heard the second porcupine coming, took my camera back out and pursued out-of-focus porcupines again. The third showed up and again I failed at getting a convincing picture of the porcupine. When the second returned to the area around my house I finally managed to get a decent-enough picture and gave up the chase. Hot, sweaty, and excited by my experience, I went to bed. I love these encounters that only insomnia can provide.

A spontaneous rescue

Three days ago I was walking down the road from Pak Yasir (the house where WCS parks its car, just outside the forest) when a car started beeping its horn behind me. I figured it was just another person desparate to "hello mister" me (yes it is a verb now), but it was actually WCS conflict guys headed to Krui to deal with a tiger. They were driving me to the ojek (motorbike) place when I saw a primate walking around in someone's front yard just next to the road. At first it took me a few seconds to register that this was a siamang. I am more used to seeing macaques, and not being able to do much since they are not endangered. I first thought "that is an ape, it is black like a chimp, wait that is a siamang." Then I said "we have to stop; that is a siamang," and I am pretty sure the WCS guys would have just driven by without me pushing me to do their job. We talked with the woman, who seemed pretty strange, and after some difficulties, convinced her to let us take the siamang to Kota Agung. I have friends that run an animal rescue and rehabilitation organization in Jakarta (Jakarta Animal Aid Network) and have lots of experience with siamangs, so I called them to arrange things. They left Jakarta first thing in the morning while I waited in Kota Agung. Unfortunately, the transport and handling of the siamang has not been a simple, straight-forward thing. The truth is I really felt like a bitch and questioned the point of the whole thing. The poor siamang was pretty traumatized by the ride down the mountain, sitting curled up in this sad ball. She was also terrified when one of the guys carried her to the car, and promptly shat everywhere. The greatest trauma, however, was yet to come. When we got to Kota Agung I wanted to give her time to relax and get out of the car slowly with a banana as a reward. But one of the WCS guys did not feel like waiting for fruit, so he grabbed her in a bag and then let her climb out on the ground outside. Being a siamang and all, she then immediately ran away and climbed on the roof of WCS. A chase ensued that eventually swelled to something like 20 guys running around on hot tile roofs, searching between rafters, and climbing surrounding trees. I am sure that you are not surprised to hear that a two year old siamang is both smarter and faster than 20 men. It took over two hours to recapture her. We are just the best conservationists ever. During the chase operation I was really questioning my motivations and the good in all of this. So I "rescued" the siamang, but then I submitted her to a afternoon of torture and stress. She is better now and had plenty of water and bananas to get her through the night. But she is so human in her postures and responses to imprisonment, and yet I cannot really communicate with her to say I know this situation sucks and please tell me what I can do to help. She just sits in the sad, shy ball with a somehow ageless expression of stoicism on her face. People in concentration camps probably had similar reactions. At least it will not be long before people with at least proper enclosures and equipment can take care of her. She does seem to trust me a little bit more than some of the others, and actually ran to me and put her arm around me when frightened of louder big folk. Still I feel like a bitch.

The rescue saga continued the next morning. My animal rescue friends came very quickly (they left at 1 am the morning after the confiscation) and helped out. They are the best, most dedicated conservation guys I know. They run their own organization out of Jakarta and have experience with all sorts of wildlife (from orangutans to bears to birds and snakes) and animal trade. They have a really great program for rapture rehabilitation on one of the Pulau Seribu islands. Luca and I went there for last New Year's. We brought the juvenile (she is about two years old; maybe 2 1/2) siamang (now named Alice, but not by my choice; although I find it flattering seeing as she is a rather pretty siamang) to Bandar Lampung to the center run by forestry. The place unfortunately is in really bad shape and the current boss continues to refuse help in the form of money, staff, and supplies simply on the principle that he wants to be in charge. My friends' organization has offered to staff the center and oversee everything, but because they would then be taking the power away from this one jerkoff boss he keeps saying no. What an asshole. Apparently the last two guys with the same position were really happy to work together, and then the current guy came in and everything changed. There will be another meeting tomorrow, so we will see if they can come to a new agreement. Right now nobody is keeping the place clean and there is not enough food for the animals. They have 7 siamangs, including "Alice," one pig-tailed macaque, one long-tailed macaque, and a leopard cat with new-born kittens. The primates are basically living off of the papaya trees that grow a the center. This weekend we worked on cleaning things up, making new enrichments, and moving one of the adult siamangs to a slightly larger cage. But these are only tiny improvements. I mean the animals were not even being provided with water. I am determined to keep track of things and bring the primates fruit even if I have to smuggle it in. In the past WCS along with my friends' organization would provide food for all the animals, but now they are not even allowed to do that. It is a freaking ridiculous situation and all because of one jerk that cannot accept having some of his power taken away. I will let you know how things progress. Please take a look at the pictures of "Alice" and the other inmates of the "rescue" center. The pictures were taken by my new friend Rachel, so please credit her camera.

A big thanks to everyone: happiness in the small things

I just wanted to share a moment of complete bliss which I enjoyed some time at the start of January.

The night was clear and there was a slightly biting breeze in the night air that always makes me think about home, where seasons may change and offer greater distinction than more or less rain. The smoke of pollution and burning was blown off and there were no clouds, so that I could see the stars of this hemisphere with acute clarity and the moon was full and bright, reflecting off the river in a way that I never can manage to photograph. I assembled and lite the candle-driven Christmas decoration that was sent to me. The simple beauty of its delicate spinning and unassuming candle light sincerly filled me with bliss. I even put it on top of a broken mirror I had so that the light could be reflected and projected further. I made a cup of Chai tea that tastes like home and safety and all things comforting. And, while watching the light spin and trying not to gulp down the cinnamony tea (at least I can get two cups out of each bag), I watched a movie that was sweet, whimsical, and surprisingly rewarding. Any one of these simple comforts would make me happy, but having them altogether and with such a clear, special night made me completely, purely happy. This was largely in part to the gifts that you sent me for Christmas. Thank you all.

A long-awaited update from the field

So much has happened in the last few months, and a lot of it unfortunate, but I will try to relate to you some of the more recent events.

Since being diagnosed with melanoma last November (a year ago now), my dad has been undergoing treatments to try to target and stop this unpredictable and damnable cancer. The first attempt at immunotherapy did not work, and the cancer reappeared in other areas of is body. Now they are trying a form of chemotherapy. There is a lot of waiting to see if the next treatment works. But my parents are kind of amazing; they really seem able to just keep living and enjoying life because what is the use of constantly dwelling on the depressing stuff. The one major problem for me with this healthy strategy is that I am thousands of miles away and I cannot share in this living business with the people I love.

Data collection is still filled with difficulties and I would literally pay for some breaks. I have had a run of particularly rough days (not finding groups, dealing with less than stellar assistants, finding myself 300+ m out of the trail system – meaning there are only trails made by passing elephants and by myself when I manually move vegetation and scamper in and out of steep rivers- and with the wrong group) this last week and took Luca up on his suggestion to go out of the forest a few days earlier than planned. I already had a nice swim in the ocean late this afternoon and am currently drinking some really fabulous local “wine” (the ingredients include tomatoes and papaya, so you can imagine what it tastes like). But, hey it does still have alcohol in it.

I am really missing Thanksgiving this year. It is my favorite holiday, but because the concept of time seems to disappear in the forest, it is hard to believe that it is already the end of November. Everyone should really remember not to take all of the food and football for granted. Just think of me eating my three eggs a day like usual. I am planning on trying out for the semi-professional women’s football team in Austin when I get back. Even if I do not make the team I still want to give it a try. Plus, I think that I will definitely be tough enough for that sport by the time I finish up here. So, I will try to make up for all the lost American sports time when I get the chance.

Death seems to be haunting me at the moment. I took care of a baby giant squirrel (scientific name: Ratufa bicolor) that I found during a storm one day after she fell out of her nest and was giving loud distress calls. I just could not leave her there to drwon in a puddle or be gobbled up by some lazy predator. She seemed to be doing well and was gaining weight during the first week or so. Then Luca and I (who were really like new parents who have to learn everything from trial and error, and who immediately take on the stereotypical gender roles with the Ratufa always shitting and peeing on me and me always preparing the food, while the “dad” got to rough-house with her and the other “fun” stuff) went out of the forest for a few days, and when we returned she seemed weaker and to be eating less. When I weighed her she had lost all of the weight that she had gained the previous week. We tried to do what we could to force her to eat, but she got worse over the next 2 or 3 days. There was even a vet in camp working with a team of cat researchers, but he seemed sort of clueless as to how to help and less concerned than I would expect. Because she slept literally inside of my sarong with me every night, I was already incredibly attached to the squirrel. On the third night she was really struggling and did not eat at all. I woke up at around 5 in the morning and knew that she was going. I threw on some clothes so as not to offend the Indonesians in camp and ran to Luca’s room with her in my hands gasping for breath once every 30 seconds or so. I knocked on his door and woke him up, screaming something like “she’s dying.” I held her and stroked her for the next 20 minutes or so until she stopped breathing. At one point the stupid vet woke up to use the facilities located below Luca’s room. Luca said “she is dying or already dead” to the guy and he just shrugged and said “sorry” in a non-caring way, and then went to pee. After she stopped breathing I tried CPR on her but her little lungs only inflated and she did not respond. I was already crying quietly by this time, but really trying to hold myself together. Luca did not cry but he really took it badly as well. Later that day when he heard the same species calling in the forest he described his reaction like being stabbed in an already-opened wound. We had failed and did not really know exactly why. I could not really talk much at this point because I knew that I would start crying audibly if I opened my mouth and this loss of control would tear down all of my emotional walls. We had to bury her quickly because in the forest things start decomposing rapidly, plus as Luca pointed out and I knew was true but still tough, she was just a body at this point. In selecting a spot, the assistants suggested we bury her where all the other failed animal rescues went, which really tore me up, particularly because of how they said it: “here is the argus peasant, the deer, the baby elephant, etc, so let’s just throw her on top like a mass grave and forget about it.” Or at least that is how I interpreted it. Within minutes of her burial they then went to slit the throats of the chickens to cook for dinner, which I do not eat and still really hate to see. Death is just much more everyday and unshocking here. Meanwhile, I think that I grieved more for that squirrel than any pet or person in my life. I think that this may also have something to do with the fact that when you work in the forest all day for months and months you really cling to the little things, and something alive, warm and breathing is more real. Luca and I literally celebrate when the ATM’s function to give us our own money or when there are some canned sardines or potatoes to eat. Hell, we even look forward to coming out to our crappy hotel for a few days where we can sleep past 6 am, use hot water, and watch miserably bad films usually starring Steven Segal (my plan for tomorrow night). At least I had Luca to be there with me when the Ratufa died, but I desperately needed someone to hold me or even fucking touch me at that moment and he did not. I am trying to prepare myself for Luca’s departure in March, but it is really going to kill me to see him go.

This must all sound pretty desperate, but then (it gets worse) two weeks ago when the same vet that pissed me off was leaving the forest, he drowned trying to cross the flooded river with the station manager. It still is not fully clear how this happened and whether he really could swim or not. He told the manager (Opo) twice on the banks of the rain-swollen river that he could swim before starting to cross. Then, only a couple of meters from the shore (before it was deep enough to swim) he started struggling and did not even try to swim or use his pack to float. Opo was still very close-by and immediately went to him, but when he reached the pack the vet was already gone and did not resurface. There was an immediate search by police, WCS people, park officials, researchers, and local people. I went to help out the next morning, swimming and searching under debris for a body. Although, I gave up pretty quickly since I did feel like much of a help. On the third day his body finally emerged from a tree-fall. I still am struggling to accept that it really happened. We cross that river every time we go in and out of the forest, and I never really felt that my life was in peril. Now, like earlier today, we are overly cautious, but it all seems ridiculous that a man died that way. When I told my parents about it they asked if I could wait until the rainy season was over to go out and just stay in until then. This is of course absurd seeing how the rains stop in February (maybe). I promise to be as careful as I can, but I still have to keep up with my research schedule.

On a more positive note, I went to see the volcano Krakatoa (really Anak Krakatoa “the child of Krakatoa”) with Luca and a visiting friend of his. It was an interesting experience and my first time on a volcano. I kept thinking that it was like an alien planet, completely desolate with sulfurous fumes and strange but beautiful rocks. I climbed part of the way up the crater, but Luca of course went to the very top and looked into the mouth of the volcano. I am sorry I did not go, but I also have the sense to know that, taking safety and time into account, it is better that I did not. The wind, even as high as I ventured, was tremendously powerful. I posted some pictures of the area and the poor departed Ratufa below.

I wish everyone a happy thanksgiving and wish that I could be there to bake you all pies and just be near you all. I will try eat something other than eggs and rice while I am out and call it Thanksgiving supper.

Taking the "pisang" way out

So I thought that some of you might enjoy this story from a couple of weeks ago.



There are a number of choices available when I need to get from the forest to Kota Agung: super crappy bus, a rumured nicer bus, motor bike, the rare treat of a WCS car going out, or the wild card option of accepting a ride from whatever contraption passes your way.



When I came out last time I guess I was feeling inspired and a little reckless. Usually when random guys in random trucks offer me rides and try to chat me up as I walk towards the village (Way Heni) and bus stop, I only pause long enough to respond with minimalist "ke sana"s (roughly - I am going that way). But this time when a guy driving a banana ("pisang" whence title for post) truck seemed to take a pity on a clearly vulnerable massive, white woman walking alone out of the forest, I thought "What the hell, why not? Take the banana truck Alice and save yourself $3 and the discomforts of the bus." So, I hopped aboard and, after they finished loading up, we started off down the mountain. Of course as it turned out they were eventually going to Kota Agung, but not until later that night, so I would have to take a different bus once we got to the bottom of the mountain (more like a range of ridges but mountain sounds better). But still I would only have to pay $1 and it wold probably be faster, right. Well, not so much seeing as we first had to make a couple more banana-loading stops (Of course I was determined to help - there is a sort of tossing motion required for getting the giant stalks of bananas on top of the load in case you are interested or if anyone ever puts a gun to your head and says "load the bananas or die," which must have made for an interesting scene for the neighbors). After finally loading up two trucks, a larger one carrying up to 17 tons and our smaller one carrying about 5 tons, we started off. Due to steep inclines and tricky turns, it ended up being a slow procession. Often we would have to stop and wait behind while the larger truck made a pondorous climb and then signaled a honk some way ahead to give the all-clear. I also found myself getting curiously sleepy whenever we were driving close behind the 17-tons of bananas. While it is not uncommon for me to get tired during long drives, this seemed odd, more like uncontrollable passing out. I finally connected this sudden tiredness with the billows of pollution the larger truck was giving off in regular intervals. I was being semi-asphixiated by the carbon-monoxide and then releaved each time we got a little distance between the two trucks. I am sure that my brain cells are still thanking me for this. Still it may have been worth the adventure, free bananas, and (don't forget) $1 I saved. I also got to Kota Agung at least an hour later than the normal, crappy bus would have deposited me.

An angry little rant from the forest

So I have had a rough couple of weeks due to near abandonment by my assistants (1 quit, 1 never showed up for work, 1 has a sick wife - ok I can understand this because I am not a total bitch, and 1 kind of sucks in the forest - I mean even I am faster than him and have to teach him the local plant names). The other day drove me to such a frustrated state that I stopped mid-trail to write an angry composistion because I had no one to rant to except myself and my data book. Well, thanks to the beauty of today's technology and my ability to read even my crappiest and most emotionally-driven handwriting, I can now share this word-for-word with all of my friends and family, and anyone else who might stumble upon my blog from the general human populous.

“There is nothing better than starting your day at -200, -100 m (i.e., “Hell”), finding the gibbons, cutting trails up hills of rattan and impenetrable lianas with mini Swiss Army Knife scissors, knowing that there is no trail at the top, losing the gibbons as soon as they see you and run like hell, and then losing yourself and having to compass you way out to finally realize that your absentee assistant is following the wrong group after conveniently forgetting the plan you made the day before!” (July 2, 2008 roughly 9:30 am)

P.s. I am going to buy my very own "parang" (traditional machete) before returning to the forest, so that I can cut trails like a professional.