Read Online Endangered by Eliot Schrefer - Free Book Online

arms.
    Once I reached the sanctuary door, I allowed myself to turn around, head faint and legs trembling. But the men were gone.
    When I told Patrice, he took Clément out to scout for the men, but couldn’t find any sign of them. From my description, hethought they were kata-kata — “cut-cut” in Lingala — a catch-all local term that could refer to renegade guards or deserters from the Congolese or Rwandan or Zambian armies. Congolese politics were such a confusing mess that kata-kata came to refer to anyone you didn’t want to meet. Many of the roaming soldiers didn’t themselves know who was paying for their weapons. Seeing my anxious expression when the kata-kata were mentioned, Patrice assured me there was nothing to worry about. But I noticed he double-checked the locks on all the doors and windows of the sanctuary that night.
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    Otto had been simple before, representing only himself. Now whenever I looked at him I’d see the image of those two little bonobos in the cage. His life stood for those other two lives. And it stood for my own guilt.
    Our history had become complicated. Maybe that’s why we were both drawn to Pweto.
    The adult bonobos kept to themselves, hiding away in the center of their large enclosure. I would hear them calling to one another, especially at the end of the day when they were bedding down, but I didn’t see them very often, only when one happened to be near the fence while foraging.
    But Pweto was different. He had to be kept by himself, and his one-ape enclosure was a lot smaller than the main one. Because his arm was crippled, he didn’t spend much time in the trees, just sat all day by the piece of stream that snaked through his space, in full view of any who walked by as he stared into the water.
    Something terrible had happened to him. He was missing an ear, and there was a hole in his cheek. One arm had a hunk missing and dangled uselessly. While the other bonobos loved to frolic, he barely moved all day.
    Otto was fascinated.
    We parked ourselves at the edge of the fence, where I did my summer reading while he watched Pweto. This quiet, motionless adult was apparently more Otto’s speed than the rowdy nursery bonobos. One hand resting on my leg for assurance, Otto sat and called for Pweto to come play. Occasionally Otto got frustrated and approached the fence, calling louder. He never tried to touch it, though, not since the first time he’d grabbed the metal and gotten hurled backward, left with frizzed hair and a shocked expression. Now he was very wary of the magic in the wires.
    That afternoon Mama Brunelle joined us when she went on break. “Pweto used to be our most energetic bonobo,” she said, looking wistfully at him.
    â€œHe didn’t arrive this way?” I asked, surprised.
    â€œOh, no,” Brunelle said. “He was the most popular and handsome bonobo in the nursery. Really could do nothing wrong, especially with the young ladies. Then, early last year, one of the females in the enclosure gave birth to a little girl bonobo. Pweto was fascinated by the baby, and would carry her on his back, whizzing around the trees to make her smile. It earned him a lot of points, but then one time he went too fast. The baby slipped off his back and fell to the ground and died. The Pink Ladies turned on him.”
    â€œThe Pink Ladies?”
    â€œThat’s what we call them. Bonobos are matriarchal — that means that the females are in charge. Because bonobo females spend all day together and help care for one another’s children, it makes them very close, so they’re able to band together and have power over the males. Even though the males are bigger and stronger, if any of them steps out of line, the Pink Ladies gang up on him and teach him a lesson.”
    â€œOther bonobos did that to Pweto?” I asked. Bonobos always seemed so sweet and friendly. I didn’t know they could be