The Invasion

The five rules of utmost importance that we were briefed on before arriving at Camp Seluang Mas were:

-Do Not engage with an orangutan unless they engage with you

-Never go anywhere alone

-Always have your head torch with you at night to avoid cobras

-Never get between a male and female orangutan encounter

-When entering the camp house, you MUST lock the door behind you. Even if you are only entering to get something ten feet away, you must lock the door behind you, walk the ten feet to get what you need, and lock the door again behind you and return the key (kunci) to the kitchen.

Foreshadow: I was good about all rules but one. 

For a construction volunteer, being on a project at Camp Seluang Mas is a special treat. It was really cool to be in such a remote location, but what was best is that it is where forty ex-captive orangutans have been released in the past two years, and some just a few days before our arrival. That meant that these individuals were still hanging around camp quite a bit while they were adjusting to the forest again years after losing their mother.  It also meant that four extra staff members (in addition to the 10 that live at the camp) were staying there to follow the new releases and record data on their activities for the first ten days of their reintroduction. So camp was full of excitement! 

Bed Rolls

When we first arrived, we unloaded our bags and were given bed rolls. Caro, a really cool 23 year old chick from Miami, had been a volunteer at OFI the year before at another camp where she had slept in her hammock outside on the veranda, so Ruth had invited her to do that again if she wanted. One of my biggest fears of this experience was having to sleep in a small space with new people so I jumped at the opportunity to set up my bed roll outside under the stars near Caro's hammock. We went straight to work getting the ropes hung for our mosquito nets when Ruth came with the news that the staff insist we sleep inside because the moon was too bright and the orangutans could get restless and come and mess with our stuff while we slept. Newly released orangutans are quite used to people, and they are particularly interested in our things. This is why the fifth rule, of locking the door immediately behind you was so important. But like many things in life, I had to learn this the hard way. 

We weren't even allowed to open the windows of the house because a strong orangutan who wanted in would just pull it off the frame. Above the windows were ventilation slats made of ironwood and this is where we hung our mosquito nets from. The slats did not do much for cooling the room however, and the heat was stifling. But the bed roll was thicker than I thought it'd be, I had nice bed linens from home, and my mosquito net provided me solace that anything that crawls or bites would be kept a good distance from me. Being so exhausted, I slept better than I usually do at home even, and I would wake up at 6 am feeling refreshed and rested. 

peering eyes

Our sleeping quarters under surveillance

It was our second morning at Camp, however, that I woke feeling like I was getting a cold- probably from the 24 hour plane ride a few days before. I groggily shuffled to the sink to brush my teeth when Rex, not noticing me, got to the sink first. So I grabbed my water bottle and unlocked the double doors near my bed and went and brushed my teeth outside. This wasn't the door we usually used to go in and out, and the lock was tricky. And I'm not really good with locks in the first place. And I was still half asleep. That's why I am pretty sure the rest of the day's events were my fault.

We headed for breakfast out the other door, and then straight into the forest for work. I was really nursing my cold at this point (which was completely gone in the next day aided by about 6 doses of Ibu Lati's hot ginger tea (jahe te) that was more like a ginger slurry concoction- a secret formula that she would not tell me how she made!). When we headed back to camp for lunch, all I could think about was skipping lunch and taking a hard rest instead to get ahead of this cold. I was walking alongside Ruby, a really sweet 55 year old woman from Orlando who was a sales rep for Shiseido and a vegan btw, when I saw the men at camp looking up into a really tall tree. I looked up to see what the spectacle was and there was Lydia the orangutan climbing up with a big white sheet- playing like she was some superhero ghost. And immediately I knew- that was my crisp fresh white sheet!  The sheet that lay between me and the bed roll was a sanctuary of hygiene that I rested assuredly on-  And now it was 100 feet up in a tree, being rubbed on by an albeit sweet and beautiful orangutan- a smelly, dirty one who I had personally seen put her fingers in places I wouldn't want the bottom of my shoe to touch, let alone my bed linens! This was the day that I had to decide what I was made of. I was accepting openly of so many of the cultural challenges, like a dip bucket for a sink and sitting on hard floors. Where everything else was roughing it,  I needed this sheet for my sanity and frankly, I was pissed. 

So it was discovered that the double doors were not locked properly and our camp house got invaded. Surveyign the damage we found my sheet was pulled off my bed roll like a magician pulling a tablecloth off a set table. My folded sleep clothes, book, and glasses were still atop my bed undisturbed. A bag of barley mints (really yummy mints bought locally) next to my bed was still there, but obviously dipped into, as a trail of candies were spattered on the floor. Rex, this awesome 20 year old kid from Chicago, noticed two boxes of his Chinese herbs were pulled out of his bag and placed, oddly upright, on the table across the room- none missing though- just the box torn up. 

I felt horrible about this invasion being due to my error, but I was really more distraught over my sheet. I tried to remain calm during lunch, but I was so preoccupied about what I was going to sleep on that night. I did NOT want to lie on that bare bedroll. I was told that the chances of getting my sheet back in one piece weren't very good -that Lydia would tear it apart before getting bored and dropping it.  I did my best to let it go- and then suddenly a solution popped into my head! I still had my sleeping bag packed away and I could use that as a sheet! Problem solved! And just when I felt the relief and let go of the idea of getting my sheet back, I heard someone say, "your sheet is back!" and Pak Edo came walking out of the woods with it in his hands! Lydia got bored and dropped it without tearing it up!! A short-lived rejoice, because upon inspection, my sheet smelled really bad and had an ominous brown stain the size of a record album on it. There was no way my hand laundering in the river was going to get this sheet fresh ever again. But Ruth suggested I give it to Ibu Rika in the kitchen and pay her twenty thousand rupiah to launder it. So I did and two days later I had my sheet back, nice and fresh- with the reassurance that the faded brown stain that remained was tree sap. 

We still had some time to relax before heading back to work, and I was unable to rest, so I joined 9 year old Lianna, who was where she often was- sitting on the benches outside the house with Noni the orangutan and Nadya her baby. As I sat down next to them, my dread started all over again. Noni the orangutan had a giant mouthful of my barley mints - and Lianna just sat laughing at her sucking on them. I did not know if this would make Noni sick or if anyone knew she had this booty. I just imagined them finding out and having to call a vet from the Care Center more than 4 hours away for medicine or something. Now that seems silly to me because I learned that orangutans have pretty strong stomachs, but having just arrived and causing this situation, my paranoia was pretty high. I watched Noni closely and was happy when she finally swallowed what was left in her mouth. But as soon as the last bits were gone, I was shocked to see Lianna rustle in her pocket and pull out another mint, ready to hand over to Noni! She must have picked up a dropped handful of mints when the invasion happened and now doled them out to her friend, Noni. I quick told Lianna, TIDAK! (NO!), to not give her any more, and that naughty little girl just tossed Noni the mints and ran away back to the kitchen. It's a big rule that only staff in navy blue uniforms are to feed orangutans at feeding platforms in the forest, but Lianna simply never accepted this rule. I sat there watching Noni unwrap yet another candy and figured this must not be the first time she had people food with Lianna hanging around.  It was time to go back to work on the bridge and I was just glad to be done with the fiasco. 

Every morning and afternoon that we headed back to the work site, we had to carry planks of wood from camp to the location of the new bridge, a kilometer deep into the forest. The planks were 20 foot long and heavy dense ironwood. The local guys could throw two planks on their shoulder and walk barefoot down the trail. We volunteers carried one plank in a team of two, and had to constantly switch shoulders along the way. That afternoon, I was still really feeling my head cold and the last thing I wanted was a massive plank of wood on my shoulder. Snot was running out of my nose and my head felt like it was going to explode. Carrying a plank a kilometer down a rough trail takes about ten minutes,  and when we arrived at the site I was so grateful to dump the burden and be done with carrying and just find myself a spot to sit and chisel. Chiseling was pretty tough, but at least you could do it sitting. We had to chisel square holes through posts that would be made into crosses and sunk into the swamp for the bridge supports. (The supports were pounded in by a device made from a section of tree with wooden handles nailed to the side, which is a pretty cool tool unlike any you'd see at Home Depot). Well, it was pretty quick that my plan of taking it easy got thwarted too. The drill bit of the electric drill- the one power tool we used run by a generator strapped to the back of a motorbike- broke, as it often does when boring into dense ironwood. That would mean that Ruth and Pak Idul, the bossman, would have to take the motorbike into a village, hours away, to get a new bit.  They had to go fast because the next day was an election for a new president and everything would be closed. So work had to be shut down on the bridge for the rest of the day- but there was the matter of all that wood back at camp that still needed to be carried the kilometer into the forest. And that's what we volunteers got to do the rest of the day. 

Handmade pounding device

Chisel and handmade hammer

Planks alongside the worksite

Lydia finally dropped my net but in destroyed it first

I had on my rubber boots, and just two trips back and forth with wood gave me raw blisters already. So on one trip back to camp I decided I would get my sandals. That's when I saw Lydia again, this time sitting near the camp house with a sock.  I knew it was my sock that I just left hanging to dry on the line that hung my mosquito net over my bed roll. My mind reeled. This time I KNEW the doors had been properly locked. There was no way an orangutan got inside. And instantly I knew what happened. I looked at the exterior of the house and hanging out of the ventilation slats that were opposite where my bed was were the strings of my mosquito net. And sure enough, Miss Lydia had climbed up to the slats on the outside wall, and with her long dextrous fingers, pulled my net, socks and all, through the slat. 

Now my other fortress of solitude, my mosquito net- the drape of purity and sound bug-free sleep was torn away. Nothing left but my naked exposed bed roll. First my sheet stripped, now my net.

I remembered Ruth had mentioned that there was a bag of leftover mosquito nets from other volunteers so I knew I could get another one. But I'm not a great sharer of things like this. I wanted my net. Instead I had to sift through a plastic bag stuffed with stinky nets that had been stowed away in the high humidity for months- and smelled as if that place was a dank dungeon of mold. I had no choice so I put my chin up and set about hanging this substitute net. I needed my knife to cut down the old strings of my original net, but I could not find my brand new Leatherman that I had just bought for this trip anywhere. I was pretty sure it was in an outside pocket of my pack, and it turns out, that's the ideal place for an airline employee to dip in and take such an item. 

A head cold, a lost sheet, net, and knife. This day just kept on challenging me and I have to say, I was pretty annoyed. And that night, as I went to bed on my sleeping bag waiting for my sheet to be cleaned, under the gaudy blue musty net that was igniting my mold allergy, itching my rashy ankles, and fanning my salty blisters, I found I was more smiling than I was frustrated. I mean a lot of these things happen at home. I lose valuable things. I work hard in all kinds of weather. Even my stuff often gets ruined by an animal. And certainly I have had things stolen. But never have I been robbed by an orangutan in the middle of a rainforest. And really, how could I stay mad about that?