Hi Everyone!

Second part coming up.

Now tell me that I didn’t have the best birthday ever!

Thank you Libby and Gary for ALL that you did in making it so special.

My family knows how much I love them and my heart is full to overflowing.

2. ORANGUTANS AND THE ELUSIVE BIRTHDAY CAKE

It took us till the next day to reach our first stop - the orangutan rehabilitation centre at Camp Leakey in the Tanjung Puting National Park. (That wasn’t entirely true: our Klotok came to a halt twice. First for the chief bottle-washer to jump over the side in the very murky croc-infested river to disentangle some debris from the prop. And the second time because the motor conked out (or as the Ozzies say – and I love it – carked it!). After the skipper had an unsuccessful go at getting it started again, our dear men rolled up their sleeves and in true yachtie fashion, lent a hand. After several attempts of trying this and then that, Gary tightened the stuffing box and we were back in business)

The name Birute’Galdikas is synonymous with this park. She was known as one of the "Leakey Angels" - the other two members of this exclusive club being Jane Goodall (who studies chimpanzees in Tanzania) and Dian Fossey (who studied mountain gorillas in Rwanda before her death).

When she arrived in Tanjung Puting Reserve, Kalimantan, Galdikas started her research site with a few huts in the jungle, reached by dugout canoe. She christened the place Camp Leakey in honour of her mentor, Louis Leakey – the Kenyan anthropologist. Over time she transformed Camp Leakey from a makeshift outpost to an established field station, and gained reassurances from the local authorities that they would not touch the forest where she wanted to conduct her study. Later she became the driving force behind the creation of Tanjung Puting National Park - one of the largest of its kind in South-East Asia. Still now, she is fighting the battle against illegal logging and encroachment to the National Park. She is an amazing woman.

At Tanjung Puting sanctuary, juvenile orangutans orphaned or rescued from captivity are reintroduced to the jungle under the supervision of rangers. As the orangutans grow and learn to live in the wild they spend longer and longer away from the camps. However it seems that some of the adults can’t kick the habit and usually return at feeding time and so are bicultural. This poses a bit of a problem as we were soon to find out.

It had begun to rain. But that wasn’t going to dampen our spirits and as the Klotok tied off on the river bank I spied an orangutan on the walkway and Don was out with his camera. This was Sissie who ensconced herself in the middle of the walkway while Don focused his camera and snapped. Unbeknown to us, she is one of the orangutans who are intrigued with the clicking sound of the shutter, but because it was drizzling Don had tucked his camera away as soon as he had taken her picture. He walked on, but unfortunately Putri was next in line and Sissie spied her backpack. She was sure that was where the camera was and I learnt very quickly that when an orangutan has made up its mind that it wants something there is no holding back. She snatched the bag from Putri  carefully unzipped all the sections and when there was no camera to be found, with a tug, ripped the bag apart and put it over her head as a shelter from the rain. While all this was going on, she gently held Putri by the arm with her hand, and when that was needed to perform the zip-opening, exchanged her hand for a back foot. She made it quite clear that Putri was going nowhere. One of the rangers came to the rescue with a carrot which he threw off the walkway and which Sissie couldn’t resist. But poor Putri lost her backpack.

Turning the corner into the camp area there was pandemonium. The alpha male, Tom, had pitched up, having been away for months, we heard, and with his arrival everyone including the female orangutans scarpered! Not only that, the rangers were running for the provisions shed. One of the Gibbons with its long arms had managed to open the door and was making fast work of looting the kitchen. Tom had spied his chance of a free feed and was headed that way and some of the orangutans that had come down to the camp, were hanging out for some handouts as well. We watched the antics of shrieking umbrella-ed Chinese tourists on one side and rangers trying to rescue the bananas from some very clever and amusing apes on the other. It was still raining and looking up into a stark tree nearby, I spotted a lone orangutan. He too was watching the going’s-on and I was amused to see him scamper down, pick a bunch of leaves and put them on his head as a rain cover and scamper back up again for an unrestricted view.

Once order was restored, we hiked a few kilometres through the canopy of jungle to the feeding station. I filled my lungs with the sweet smell of plant-breath, stepping over small rivulets between the gnarled tree roots, onto soft green mossy patches and deep-mulched fallen leaves. Farmer Joe syndrome rose to the fore and Don and I  kicked off our shoes that were waterlogged and slippery and walked in barefooted contact with mother earth - despite the warning of leaches.

Huge trees canopied above with leaves intertwined, their mottled trunks wound with creepers, clinging lichen and algae, softened with moss. Below in the dapples were bright red berries, yellow and pink flowers, orange ears of fungus on fallen trunks, tendrils and monkey ropes, even patches of carnivorous pitcher plants; it was all that I imagined the rainforest to be.

Once at the feeding tables bananas were put down and we waited for the orangutans to appear. Considering their large size, their movement was graceful and agile from one tree to another, leaning the saplings over to grab the next. They appeared from every corner of the rainforest, but kept their distance until Tom had had his fill. Thereafter, the rest of about 15 to 20 orangutans, some with babies and toddlers in tow came down from the trees to feed.

The insects buzzed, the mosquitoes bit, the rain dripped and our clothes clung, but in the rapture of being part of the wild, we felt none of these discomforts. It was fascinating to watch these huge primates delicately peeling a banana (in some instances when they weren’t threatened,) or a youngster grabbing bunches in each hand plus a mouthful, before scuttling back up a tree. Eventually as the light began to fade, we watched a mother and baby at the perimeter of the clearing, construct a sleeping nest from branches which looked like a giant birds nest. 

It was hard to tear ourselves away, but we needed to return before dark. As we neared the camp, we passed a tree where the old male Kosasih was preparing for bed. And as we walked towards the camp site I turned in the path to see Princess, with her baby, Putri, clinging to her back and her young son, Percy attached to her with a handful of her hair. He was behaving exactly as a wayward four year old would, whining for attention. We slowed down to see the action; Percy wanted to be loved and cuddled and was having a temper tantrum over not getting his own way. I could see the exasperation on Princess’ face and when we stopped walking, she did too. Percy seized the opportunity. He turned to face his mother with his little hands on either side of her face and kissed her mouth.

No response.                  

She gazed into the distance ignoring him. He slapped his hands on the ground and rolled in the pathway, squealing in a tantrum that transported me back to motherhood days. Then he tried again. How could anyone ignore this pleading? He grabbed her arm and tried wrapping it around himself, and kissed her again. She eventually gave in begrudgingly – like “Oh for HEAVEN SAKE!” She gave him a quick cuddle and the little threesome carried on walking into the camp with us following. A ranger was walking along the path towards our group of orangutan mother and babies, Gary and Libby, and Don and I.

Princess reached the ranger and gave him a tap on his pants pocket. “What do you want, Princess?” he asked. To my utter amazement, she pointed to her mouth. She wanted food. And then I remembered…this was Princess, whom Professor Galdikas had taught sign language to in her studies of Orangutans in the reserve.

It was very touching that so many people had gone to an incredible length for my birthday. I really didn’t want any fuss and bother about it, and being with the orangutans in the jungle, feeling surrounded by the warmth and love of friends and my special family was more than I could ever have wanted. But unbeknown to me, Gary and Libby had wanted to surprise me with a birthday cake. To this end, an arrangement was made that Herry would organize a special Indonesian cake (later I understood it to be called “wajik” - supposedly a celebratory cake of rice formed into a cone shape, made with pandan and coconut milk with all sorts of fruit added – which sounds all very exotic)

Back on board the Klotok after a wonderful day in the rainforest with the orangutans I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. The sky had cleared and I had my first glimpse of the milky-way. We were cruising down the river for our evening tie-up along the river bank and I wondered why we stopped at several passing motor boats, obviously ferrying supplies up and down the river. Evening descended and with the crew, a somewhat gloom as well. I wondered what was up. Then the story of the cake was explained; but it seemed that the surprise wasn’t to be because the cake which was supposed to be delivered by a supply boat had disappeared. (We later heard the story from Herry, how the chef who was commissioned to make the wajik let him down at the last minute. Herry then had a run around to find another simpler sponge cake to take its place, but even that was lost in transit on some motor boat that we somehow missed)

However, our intrepid crew was not going to be put down that easily. There seemed to be a hive of activity down below, and a scrumptious meal of fried fish and vegetables was presented. Thereafter we were told to prepare ourselves for a short “interlude” and through the hatch my makeshift replacement cake appeared. Six slices of bread with a big dollop of jam in the centre, decorated with four candles and surrounded with potato crisps. A tin of coke at each corner of the tray completed the decoration – and a bunch of plastic flowers that Putri had made out of potato chip bags – it knocked any exotic birthday cake into a cocked hat. Talking of which…..that wasn’t the end of the surprises. When the crew ascended through the hatch, the chief bottle-washer was now transformed into…well we couldn’t quite make up our minds, actually. He had ochre smeared on his face, decked out in a dress with red lipstick and his hair pulled to the top of his head into a pony-tail! We didn’t dare ask!

But the crew were full of fun; the guitar came out and I was serenaded like there was no tomorrow. To complete the picture, the Nipa Palms that lined the banks of the river were ablaze with flickering fireflies that lit up the darkness like Christmas trees.

It was all so overwhelming and when I looked up into the heavens I could feel that special smile and hear the laughter.

I have been truly blessed. And while I gave a silent thank you, Putri and Sanchit sang…….

Jangan lupakan, jangan lupakan

Kenangan yang indah

Disuatu saat

Kita kan barjumpa pula

Terima kasih, terima kasih,

Untuk samuanya

Terima kasih, terima kasih,

Untuk samuanya

Don’t forget the wonderful moment

Sometime, next time

We will meet again.

Thank you, thank you,

For your smile,

Thank you, thank you,

For everything.

That said it all.

Love and light

Don and Jeanne