Opposable Perspectives

When I reach the top the path carves around the bend; I take a deep breath and wish my baboons a good morning. At level four the path cuts into the mountainside creating the only level piece of land. Downwards is a sharp decline through the clearing, upwards are the densely packed pines yet untouched by deforesters. I see a few of my subjects laying along the path as if suspended on the edge. Homer, and adult male baboon, is relaxing comfortably propped up on his elbows and knees. These male baboons have a funny way of lying. It seems that their hip flexors are too tight that they can’t open them enough to lie flush on the ground. Just feet from Homer is Sad, an adult female, whose name stems from the fact she was born without nipples. She is fertile but her infants die within days of birth because they cannot nurse. Sad is grooming Kwame, a strapping young juvenile male who has more of an ego than his large adult counterparts. Just like a high school superstar athlete, he thinks he is shining now but he hasn’t tasted the realities of life beyond the comforts of his natal troop.
All three baboons are facing north, over the downward slope. As I look over my left shoulder I see the sun gleaming off the Indian Ocean. There’s Muzienberg, my favorite beach; the place I learned to surf in the waters of great whites. Streaming left and west from Muzienberg are the Cape Flats, where corrugated iron and cracked pavement blaze in the morning sunlight. I position myself between Homer and the grooming pair. Sitting down I swing my legs over the edge, put my binoculars down by my side and sigh. Homer is also looking out over the view. I wonder exactly what he sees. Does he see the ocean? Does he understand what the ocean is? He also sighs. Right then and there I understood how fortunate I am to have the chance to share this with a new researcher, a greenhorn, someone who has yet to have the joy of connecting with a group of primates in a way that defies a text book explanation.