George, owing to the fact that he was so tame, was a great favourite with the staff, and spent much of his time in the kitchen. This, however, I had to put a stop to as he was used as an excuse for almost anything that happened: if dinner was late, George had upset the frying-pan; if something was missed there were always at least three witnesses to the fact that George had been seen with it last. So in the end George was tethered among the other monkeys and accepted the leadership without letting it go to his head. In this respect he was most unusual, for almost any monkey, if he sees that all the others respect and are afraid of him, will turn into the most disgusting bully. He also did something that astonished not only his fellow-monkeys but the staff as well. Thinking that he would show the same respect for the chameleons as the other monkeys did, I tied him with a fairly long leash, and his first action was to walk to the full extent of it, reach out a black paw, snatch a chameleon off its branch, and proceed to eat it with every sign of enjoyment. I hastily shortened his leash.
The Red-eared Guenon was the most delightful of the monkeys. About the size of a small cat, she was a delicate green-yellow colour on her body, with yellow patches on her cheeks, a fringe of russet hair hiding her ears, and on her nose a large heart-shaped patch of red hair. Her limbs were slender, and she had great thin bony fingers, like a very old man’s. Every day the monkeys had a handful of grasshoppers each, and the Red-eared Guenon, when she saw me coming, would stand up on her hind legs, uttering shrill bird-like twitterings, and holding out her long arms beseechingly, her thin fingers trembling. She would fill her mouth and both hands with grasshoppers, and when the last insect had been scrunched she would carefully examine the front and back of her hands to make sure she had not missed one, and then would search the ground all round, an intense expression in her light brown eyes. She was the most gentle monkey I had ever come across, and even her cries were this delicate birdlike twittering, and a long drawn-out “wheeeeeeep” when she was trying to attract one’s attention, so different from the belching grunts and loud, unruly screams of the Drills, or the tinny screech of the Putty-noses. George seemed to share my liking for this Guenon, and she seemed to find comfort in being near to his massive body. Peering from behind his shaggy shoulders she would even pluck up the courage to make faces at the Drills.
At midday the sun beat down upon the forest and the camp, and all the birds fell silent in the intense sticky heat. The only sound was the faint, far-away whisper of the cicadas in the cool depths of the forest. The birds drowsed in their cages with their eyes closed, the rats lay on their back sound asleep, their little paws twitching. Under their palm-leaf shelter the monkeys would be stretched out full length on the warm ground, blissfully dreaming, angelic expressions on their little faces. The only one who rarely had an afternoon siesta was the Red-eared Guenon: she would squat by George’s recumbent, heavily breathing form, industriously cleaning his fur, uttering soft little cries of encouragement to herself, as absorbed as an old woman at a spinning-wheel. With her long fingers she would part the hair, peering at the pink skin beneath, in this exciting search. She was not searching for fleas: it cannot be said too often that no monkey searches another for fleas. Should they happen upon a flea, which would be unusual, during the search, it would, of course, be eaten. No, the real reason that monkeys search each other’s fur is to obtain the tiny flakes of salt which appear after the Sweat has evaporated from the skin: these flakes of salt are a great delicacy in the monkey world. The searcher is rewarded by this titbit, while the one who is searched is compensated by the delightful tickly sensation he receives, as his fur is ruffled and parted by the other’s fingers. Sometimes the position would be reversed and the Guenon would lie on the ground with her eyes closed in ecstasy while George searched her soft fur with his big, black, clumsy fingers. Sometimes he would get so absorbed that he would forget he was not dealing with a monkey his own size, and he would handle her a trifle roughly. The only protest she would make would be her soft twittering cry, and then George would realize what he had done and grunt apologetically.
At night the monkeys were untied from their stakes, given a drink of milk with cod-liver oil in it, and then tied up inside a special small hut I had built for them, next door to my tent. The nearer they were to me at night the safer I felt, for I never knew when a local leopard might fancy monkey for his nightly feed, and tied out in the middle of the compound they would not stand a chance. So, each night the monkeys would be carried to their house, dripping milk, and screaming because they did not want to go to bed. George was last, and while the others were being tethered he would make a hasty round of all the pots, hoping against hope that one of the others had left a drop of milk. Then he too, protesting strongly, would be dragged off to bed. One night George revolted. After they had all been put to bed, and I had had my supper, I went down to a dance in the village. George must have watched me going through a crack in his bedroom wall, and he decided that if I could spend an evening out he could also. Very carefully he unpicked his tether and quietly eased his way through the palm-leaf wall. Then he slipped across the compound, and was just gaining the path when the Watchnight saw him.
The Watchnight uttered a wild cry, seized a banana and rushed forward to try and tempt him back. George paused and watched his approach. He let him get within a foot or so of his trailing leash, then he ran forward, bit the poor man in the calf of the leg, and fled down the path towards the village, leaving the Watchnight standing on one leg and screaming. On reaching the village George was surprised to see so many people gathered round a Tilly lamp. Just as he arrived the ‘band’ struck up, and the crowd broke into the shuffling, swaying dance that was the favourite at Eshobi at that time. George watched them for a moment, astonished, and then decided that this was a very superior game which had been arranged for his special benefit. Uttering a loud scream he rushed into the circle of dancers, his trailing rope tripping several couples up, and then he proceeded to leap and scream in the centre of the circle, occasionally making a rush at a passing dancer. Then he overturned the Tilly lamp which promptly went out. Scared of the dark and the pandemonium his sudden appearance had caused, he rushed to the nearest person and clung to his legs, screaming with all his might.
Eventually the lamp was relit, George was chastised and seated on my knee, where he behaved very well, taking sips out of my glass when I wasn’t looking, and watching the dancers with an absorbed expression. The dancers, keeping a wary eye on him, once more formed a circle. Presently I called for a small drum and, putting George on the ground, I gave the instrument to him. He had been watching the band with great attention and knew just what to do. He squatted there showing his great canines in a huge grin of delight, beating the drum with all his might. Unfortunately his sense of rhythm was not as good as the other drummers’ and his erratic playing threw the dancers into confusion once again, so I was forced to take the drum away from him and send him off to bed, protesting loudly all the way.
George attended one other dance, and this was by special request. Two days before I left Eshobi to go and join John at Bakebe, the chief arrived to say that the village was throwing a dance as a sort of farewell party for me. They would be very glad if I would attend, and could I bring the monkey that played the drum as a friend of the chief’s was coming to the dance and he was very anxious to see this feat performed by a monkey. I promised that both George and I would be there. The Tilly lamps were polished and lit, and both transported down to the village half an hour before my arrival. When I arrived, clad in my dressing-gown and pyjamas, George walking sedately beside me on his leash, we were greeted with much handclapping and cries of “welcome”. I was surprised to see such a large crowd, all dressed in their very best clothes, which ranged from a boy clad in a very fetching two-piece costume made out of old flour sacks with the name of the brand printed in large blue letters across his posterior, to the council and chief who were dressed in their brightest ceremonial robes. Elias I hardly recognized: he was to be the Master of Ceremonies, and had dressed himself to kilclass="underline" plimsoles on his great feet, a bright green shirt, and brown pin-striped trousers. He had an enormous watch-chain on the end of which was a huge whistle which he kept blowing frantically to restore order. The band was the largest yet: three drums, two flutes, and a triangle.