Monkeying Around in Borneo

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A short flight north along the coast, I headed to Sandakan, the animal capital of Sabah. A town of about 250,000, Sandakan would be my base to explore the jungle and aquatic wildlife. I visit a water village, just one of a town of houses built on stilts that extend into the sea. Cracking wooden boardwalks acts like boulevards, and you can literally fish from your living room table. Having existed for generations, homes are rent free, but au natural plumbing can be a bit of a problem. Some neighborhoods are comprised of Chinese communities, while others are made up of the descendents of Malaysian water gypsies. A Buddhist temple caters to the Chinese water village, a huge, Soviet-gray mosque to the Malays. Their children attend school together.

I’m craving a cold beer, so head off to a shebeen-like corner bar with a jukebox, plastic tables and chairs. A women with a face of nails pours me a cold Carlsberg in a frosted glass, beneath dozens of Carlsberg posters depicting a blonde model hiking up her green miniskirt and clutching a beer. An ambulance drives by, chased by children. I kind of wish I was a spy on a mission, because it’s a little sad to be draining beers on one’s own in a sweaty, exotic jungle town. There’s no TV, but the jukebox is blaring the Scorpions. “Leesin to the weened, of che ye yange.” The menu contains only beer - Guinness, Tiger and Carlsberg. My coaster says, “Someone’s got to lead the party, why not you?” A few beers later, it strikes me as deeply profound.

Sepilok Orangutan Sanctuary is the oldest in the world, having rehabilitated hundreds of orangutans into the wilds of its 43 square kilometer jungle. Although they once swung in the trees throughout Asia, wild orangutans are now only found in Borneo, where the increasing encroachment of plantations have put these laidback redheads on the endangered species list. With their remarkable human-like qualities, the Malays called them orangutan, which literally means “man of the forest.” They share 96.4% of our DNA, have opposable thumbs, and faces that alternate between pure innocence and old wisdom. I thought that a visit to Sepilok, all the way in Borneo, would bring me up close and personal with a great ape. I was searching for my Clyde, an able partner for my Eastwood.

Unfortunately, those looking for an intimate experience might want to try their local zoo. Nobody is allowed to get close to the apes. In order to touch one, visitors must get special permission, including taking a blood test to avoid the transmission of any human diseases that could wipe out the population. A viewing platform is provided for the public, where the apes can feed twice a day. That’s about it. Even my media hustle was useless. Staff are instructed not to talk to media and I would have to get a special letter from the Ministry of Information (”good luck!”) to get any special access. Maybe they’re training the orangutans as part of a new weapons program or something. Project O. Whatever, there were dozens of tourists and nobody seemed especially pleased to be kept as such a distance, bringing up the old debate of conservation versus satisfying the Humphries from Perth. The vets will argue that this is a sanctuary, and that tourists are lucky to be able to get the chance to see the apes in the wild. But then why do they market the sanctuary so aggressively to tourists? It would take very little to build a glass enclosure where we might see the babies being bottle fed, or even come into contact with an inoculated infant. It would also do wonders for the educational experience, and donations no doubt. I remember stumbling across the gorilla enclosure at Sydney’s zoo, where there is a thick plastic wall for visitors to gape inside a gorilla playpen. A huge adult was leaning against the plastic screen, tragically bored. I looked at him, and he looked at me, and there was a moment of mutual recognition, where I saw the humanity in his eyes, and perhaps he saw the apeness in mine. Whatever your opinion of zoos, that one moment of contact made me care more about gorillas in my midst than any show on Animal Planet. Sure, the gorilla might be happier in the wild (where he’ll have to fend off poachers, alpha males and food shortages) but he was doing a great service for his species, and getting all the TLC he could ever want. Ironically, my disappointing visit to Sepilok reminded me of the very zoo they don’t want it to be. People taking pictures of apes being fed on a wooden platform is what it is. Any which way but loose. *

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