The Big Bad Monkey Watch

We had a saying at Inti Wari Yassi, “Bolivia: Todo es posible, nada es seguro.” In my thirty days at the wildlife refuge, I would come to realize just how true that saying was.

Inti Wara Yassi (IWY) is a wildlife refuge which cares for physically and mentally abused animals. The refuge is run almost entirely by volunteers; travelers from all over the world who stay two weeks, a month, sometimes as long as six months.

The menagerie at the refuge included 8 pumas, 3 ocelots, hundreds of capuchin and spider monkeys and a spattering of beaver-sized jungle creatures. The big cats lived in individual cages deep in the jungle, save for the Millie the Ocelot who was living in Room 5 of the volunteers’ hostel.

I had somehow been convinced to spend my month at the refuge hanging out with a twenty-year-old Danish guy and a three-year-old Puma, both challenges in their own right. Our Puma, Leoncio, had been sold by poachers as a pet and came to the refuge after having his legs broken in three places by his “owners”. He had his playful moments but was commonly known as one of the more aggressive cats at the park. So, when the monkey volunteers asked for help at Spider Park, I jumped at the chance to take a day off from Leo and his “playful attacks”

Life at Spider Park
Home to the Spider Monkeys, the aptly named Spider Park was situated on a bluff overlooking the confluence of the two forks of the Chapare river. The alpha male of the group, Teho, was one of the few monkeys that had to be corded, due to his aggressive and slightly psychotic behavior.

Two burly, wild Spider Monkeys were trying to kill Teho and therefore take over his harem of fine-looking female Spider Monkeys. The monkey volunteers had been able to scare them off during the day but no one was in Spider Park from dawn till 7:30 AM to protect Teho. Hence “The Big Bad Monkey Watch” was formed. Every morning a volunteer tramped up to Spider Park before dawn armed with firecrackers to scare the Big Bad Monkeys away.

Around 5:20 AM, I left my comfy bed, grabbed my spider man backpack and crawled under the chain linked fence that separated our house from the refuge. I made it up to the Park and got settled on a wooden bench underneath a small shelter.

The Invasion Begins
About 20 minutes later, I heard a noise in the trees. Dawn was starting to infiltrate the dense jungle and I could see two large spider monkeys about fifteen meters up in the trees across from me. I stood up and began shouting rude monkey taunts and then I tried to light the fireworks. Big problem: the firecrackers had gotten wet and none of them lit. But, it looked like my discourteous remarks had been sufficient because I watched the monkeys recede farther back into the jungle until they disappeared. Problem solved.

Ten minutes later however, a big Spider Monkey reappeared from the same area. I started shouting again but this time it didn’t scare him off. He came closer and closer, dropping lower to the ground as he came forward. When the invading monkey was about 10 meters away, I picked up rocks and sticks to throw at him. I tossed a few rocks close to him but it didn’t faze him. He came steadily towards me, looking me straight in the eye.

At this point, I’m very nervous. The wild monkeys had never dared to come so close so I was not prepared for a frontal assault. Teho, whom I was sworn to protect, was swinging drunkenly on his cord on a downward slope behind me. I tried to position myself between him and the incoming wild monkey. When the wild monkey was on the ground about five meters from me I threw two rocks close to him. He looked angry, but not frightened, and kept coming forward. The next rock I threw, I made sure it hit him. It was a soft lob but I was hoping it would shock him into running away. I was wrong.

As soon as the rock hit, the monkey flared up on his two legs, swung his arms wildly, bared his enormous fangs and screamed. Then he charged. I ran about 7 meters down the path leading out of the Park, thinking about what I would do if he attacked.

I stopped running and turned to see if the monkey was chasing me. Luckily, he had stopped and was now riffling through my unzipped bag. In an apparent act of monkey insolence, he grabbed my all-natural mosquito spray and threw it at the ground in my direction. He then picked up my entire bag, shook it and threw it on the ground as well. Finally, while keeping his eyes on me, he ran down the bank towards Teho. I edged back to the shelter, grabbed a few rocks and watched the wild monkey. He had gone about 10 meters down the slope but was staying out of reach of Teho. During all of the drama, Teho seemed oblivious and was simply running up and down on his cord.

The wild monkey and I seemed to have reached a stalemate. He was sitting on the downward slope of the bank and when he tried to get closer to Teho, I would throw a rock near him and he would retreat. I started to calm down a bit, thinking that if I could maintain this shaky truce until the monkey folks came at 7:30, everyone - me, Teho and the wild monkey, would end up unscathed. But then the Capuchins came.

The Gang
Capuchin monkeys are about a third of the size of Spider Monkeys and one-fifth the mass. What they lack in might however, they make up in intelligence. As smart as a 6- year old kid, they act in movies, play the accordion with street performers and pickpocket unsuspecting tourists. In fact, many of the Capuchins at our refuge were reformed pickpockets, confiscated by the police when their owners were sent to jail. Male Capuchins could also be aggressive and so volunteers were told to never fight for a stolen cookie, camera or banana.

So, the Capuchins arrived; most likely attracted by all of the screeching -- by me and the wild Spider Monkey. There were four in all and they had the vibe of an adolescent monkey gang. The alpha and undisputed gang leader, aptly named Jefe, sauntered in front, his huge balls trailing behind him.

Jefe found my mosquito spray on the ground and began gnawing on it. Intent on getting to the golden liquid on the inside, he soon figured out how to unscrew the top.

I panicked. Although he was a tough bully, Jefe was nonetheless an innocent bystander to my confrontation with the wild monkey and didn’t deserve to be poisoned by my bug spray. I started yelling at him as I ran directly towards him, trying to scare him into dropping the bug spray. He took in my antics with a look of bemusement as he tipped back his head and chugged the bug spray.

I involuntary stopped mid-stride and watched. He shook the bottle to get the last few drops out and then chucked the empty bottle on the ground. While the natural spray was made mostly of eucalyptus leaves, I was still worried that chugging a full bottle could do significant damage to the internal workings of a 15-pound animal. But the deed was done and now I watched as he and his cronies rifled through my bag.

Monkey Trickery
There was now a perfect three-point triangle consisting of: me with rock in hand in the clearing; the Capuchin gang under the shelter checking out my tampons and other back bag items; and Teho and the wild monkey down the slope. My eyes flicked back and forth between my various adversaries as I assessed my next move. The wild monkey was sitting calmly on his haunches so I decided to go after the Capuchins and salvage the contents of my bag.

I ran the remaining three meters towards them, yelling obscenities in Spanish. This time I was successful. The Capuchins slowly edged away from my bag and scuttled up nearby trees, just out of my reach. My plan had worked, except for one minor exception: Jefe had my headlamp. He was sitting on a branch chattering loudly as he poked and prodded it. I watched helplessly as the light went from on, to flashing, to off and then back on again. With a pain in my heart, I knew I only had one option available to me. I grabbed my packet of double-stuffed Oreos from a hidden compartment in my bag and offered them to Jefe as a trade. He couldn’t resist. He edged down the branch and grabbed my Oreos from my extended hand, dropping my headlamp in the process. Success!

As I gathered my things, I began to feel pretty good. In fact, I was feeling a bit proud of myself. I had thwarted a Capuchin gang thievery attack (I was ignoring the possible poisoning issue). As if to acknowledge my dominance of the situation and my new position as supreme Alpha, one of the lesser Capuchins scampered up my leg and sat on my shoulder. As I awaited my grooming, a monkey sign of respect and submission, I gloried in my new situation. I had out-smarted the monkeys! I was brilliant.

The grooming never came. The sneaky monkey had lulled me into a false sense of security with his offer of friendship. While I was puffing my chest out in pride, my new ‘friend’ scurried down my torso and poked a skinny little monkey hand into my pants pocket, restealing my headlamp. Within two seconds of the crime, he was up on the same branch Jefe had used and was looking down at me with an evil-looking monkey grin. I watched in defeat as the little devil bit, shook and finally ripped apart my headlamp, scattering its parts to the wind.

Help Arrives
The next 20 minutes were spent watching the wild monkey glare at Teho while battling off the Capuchins from the remaining contents of my bag. Trying to argue fundamental principles of ownership with a monkey just doesn’t work. So was the state of matters when my salvation finally came: the monkey volunteers. I ran towards them and breathlessly recapped the wild monkey incident while pointing frantically down the slope at the evil monkey still calmly staring at Teho. The three monkey volunteers looked at me in disbelief and then looked over at the wild monkey. And then looked back at me, this time in anger.

“Are you crazy?” the alpha volunteer, Nick, shouted at me. “That’s Juanita, she’s one of ours and she’s a friggin female.”

I feebly dropped the rock my hand had been sweating around for the last half hour as Nick ran down to console Juanita.

The other two volunteers looked at me with pity. “It’s okay” said Tina, “the females and males are hard to tell apart.”

Defeated, drained and now thoroughly humiliated, I mumbled a goodbye and started down the path with backpack in hand. Remembering my headlamp, I turned back and shouted, “The Capuchins stole my tampons and my headlamp. If you see pieces of it, the headlamp that is, could you pick them up for me?”

After getting their assurances, I turned my back on Spider Park and headed back to the relative sanctuary of the jungle.

Epilogue
Jefe never showed any symptoms of having been poisoned by the mosquito spray; he also never had a single mosquito bite.

Apparently Juanita and Teho were “special friends” and they continued their monkey romance without the hindrance of air-borne rocks.

Tina lived up to her promise and a week after my stint at Spider Park she presented me with 80% of my headlamp.

I never again ventured into Spider Park, preferring the relative safety of spending nine hours a day with an aggressive full-grown Puma.

Securing Rice

These fellas are securing a JICA agriculture project in the middle of Jalalabad. The JICA Agriculture specialists are working to develop a strain of rice that has up to 70% more yield than the rice currently grown in the region. We had a chance to visit their experimental farms, row after row of dark green rice plants. The water that runs through most of the canal-like waterways in town is well, not exactly the cleanest, so the Japanese got permission to dig a 35-foot well for their farm.

Unwrapping the Fab Lab

The Fab Lab is slowling starting to blossom as boxes get ripped open and funky, little gadgets start to appear. The garganteous shop bot is almost complete and the laser cutter, which has been the display machine of the lab, has been up and running for days. Most of the rooms have been painted and the electricians are in the (slow) process of of making sure each room has reliable power.

I was given the mentally numbing but oddly satisfying task of organizing the electronics room. With air conditioning flowing and Old Crow Medicine Show blaring in the background, I spent the better part of a day finding homes for little processors and resistors. I'm pretty sure I ruined some of the bits and pieces by taking them out of their anti-static compartments, but I say that if the little buggers can't handle a little static then they'll never make it in the real world. It's a mean, lonely, staticy world out there.

Rashid and Masoud, two IT fellows from Nangarhar University, have also been helping prep the lab. They've been working on setting up the network and other computery-type things.

Guess who has experience with a gun...

Fieldtrip off the Compound

So after a week of pleading, we somehow talked the boys into taking us on a fieldtrip to the mountains. We loaded up the car with two cases of water and lots of guns, the two necessities for a car trip in Afghanistan. Our first stop was an isolated village about an hour outside of Jalalabad. The area saw a lot of fighting during the Afghan civil war and many of the villagers have not returned after fleeing to Pakistan 20 years ago. Shem had met the village doctor on a previous trip and so we tried to track him down. Unfortunately he wasn't around, but Shem woke up a couple villagers and we had a brief chat. The picture below is of the village clinic, two bed racks underneath a bamboo cover.

There were at least three graveyards in the village, filled with large blocks of stone marking all of the lives lost. I would guess that there were about 100 graves for every villager.

The closest village to the one we visited had been completely abondoned during the civil war. The mud buildings were pockmarked with bullet and rocket holes.

On our way back to the main road (and to the firing range!) we followed a canal that served as the only source of drinking water and irrigation for the area. It was a hot, hot afternoon so men, women, kids, goats and cows were all lounging under the trees by the canal. The road also went by an old UN refugee camp that is still being used by some families. Several of the kids dove into the canal as we drove by, I don't know if they were showing off or trying to hide.

A Taj Family Portrait

An Intro to the Taj

Life at the Taj ain't all that bad. It's a huge walled-off compound in what one might call the suburbs of Jalalabad, sans the soccer moms in SUVs. The compound houses a large guest house, a (slightly warm) pool, a garden, a decent-sized soccer field and of course ample space for the Fab Lab. After getting the tour and settling in a bit, Tim, our entrepid security guru and zen master, gave us our official 'Welcome to Jalalabad' security brief. At the very least, we now know how to detect a ticking time bomb.
There are a number of local Afghan men who work at the Taj, including guards, gardeners, cooks, and of course the "Dinner is Served" announcer. I'm not quite sure what he does for the rest of the day but he becomes slightly disgruntled if you don't follow him immediately to the dining room at meal time.

There are two gardens at The Taj, one managed by the locals and another managed by Japanese ag specialists who have been staying at the Taj. They are both chock full of veggies, including tomatoes, eggplants, watermelon and corn, although the uniform bamboo structures gives away which one the Japanese have created.


The jubiliant Ken can often be spotted hanging out on the Baba deck; it's alluring amenities make it prime habitat for a Nanjemoy fellow.

Ah, the pool and bar area of the Taj. A relaxing place to grab a drink and spend a few hours (or more) chatting with the expats and hearing war stories that involve big guns, armored trucks and beer runs. Since it's a holy day, Friday is a day off for locals and expats alike. Meaning...Thursday's are a big night at the Taj bar. During our last Thursday night I think the bar went through five cases of beer and plenty of bad Russian vodka.

Girrl Power in Afghanistan

The picture on the right served as a welcome sign for the Director of Education's compound. After meeting with the Director, we visited a computer class at the Teacher Training Center. It was a women’s only class and we had a chance to speak with several of them after class. They showed us what they were learning in class, which was basically an introduction to Word, Windows and Excel. The course lasts four months and they go to class every other day for one hour. Since most of the students don't have electricity in their homes, much less a computer, the time they spend at the the Training Center is the only time they have to practice their computer skills. The Training Center offers computer classes to men, women, orphans and street children and you can check out their blog at: http://www.rihr.blogspot.com/.


Since my Pashto consists of manana (thank you) and a badly gurbled sengay (how are you), we used English as our main form of communication. The women spoke English pretty well, especially considering we were the first Western women some of the ladies had ever spoken to.

The next day, four of the women and their instructor came to visit us at the Fab Lab. Since most of the equipment was not set up, Amy used her laptop to show them how to work the laser cutter. The women spent the next two hours designing and creating plexiglass keepsakes.

We sat around for a while before they left and chatted about our home lives. The women were curious to know more about how women live in the U.S., namely when they get married and what type of jobs they have. There was definitely an aura of feminism in the room. A couple of them declared that they were never going to get married, a daring thought given that most Afghan women are married by age 17.

The Road to Jalalabad

Some pics from our journey from Kabul to Jalalabad...

Dress Shopping in Jalalabad

For our first foray into town, we took care of the essentials: dress shopping. It was my first time having both an armed escort and a translator when shopping but I think I still got ripped off. Zee took Amy and me to his buddy's dress shop and gave us fashion do and dont's, Afghan style. He absolutely refused to let me buy an orange dress, swearing that only fat, old married women wear orange. I later learned this wasn't true, Zee just didn't like the dress. Our armed guard Shem seemed bored out of his mind, I don't think this is what he had imagined when he signed on for a security detail in Afghanistan.

Zee modeling the hideous orange top

So I picked the white one instead
Shem wondering how he is going to explain this to his army buddies

The Mall of Jalalabad

Stalking Leo

Glacier Climbing

During our ice-climbing foray, David and I took a boat-ride to Glacier Viedma where we cruised by icebergs and awed at the vertical edge of the glacier where ice meets water.

We lucked out and the two Brazilians who were supposed to climb with us overslept, so we had our two guides and the glaicer to ourselves. After a short demonstration on how use the crampons and ice-axes, we practiced top-roping up a gently sloped wall of the glacier. We quickly conquered our practice wall and moved on to more difficult ascents, ending at a crevasse with hard, neon blue ice and an overhanging wall. It was the first time our guides had brought any of their clients to climb it, and although I had both guides shouting in Spanish how to orientate my body (mueve tu mano izqueirda arriba y alado!) I only made it a bit over halfway before my muscles whimpered and gave up. It was super fun though and I look forward to more glacier-climbing once I get back to Virginia.

***On a sad note, I had to say goodbye to my faithful camera after it was knocked against the side of the glacier and fell into a small stream of glacier water. I don't think that falls under the warranty.

El Chelten

After a 36 hour (yes! 36) busride from Bariloche, we were unceremoniously dumped off on the side of the road at 5 AM during a windstorm in the tiny trekking town of El Chelten. Once the sun rose, we saw what a small town it really was. The government of Argentina incorporated the town in 1985 in an attempt to keep Chile from claiming the territory. Its main draws are the mountains surrounding it, including the jagged adn often cloud-covered Fitz Roy adn the glacier-studded Cerro Torre. Mountaineering tourism is the city´s bankroll and during the winter once the tourists leave, there are only 100 or so people in town.

Patagonia is famed for it´s harsh winds and likewise Fitz Roy is often shrouded in a cloudy haze, but we were lucky. During our 3-day trek we had two gorgeously clear days where we had 360 degree views showing Patagonia in all of it´s glory. The mountains and the flora supported by them looked somewhat similar to that in Bariloche, but the landscape had a certain vastness that was missing in Bariloche. In fact, the entire region of Southern Patagonia felt huge, with wide open valleys and big jagged mountain peaks.

Since we had decided against renting a stove while camping (I had mailed mine home a month prior and the rentals were too expensive) David and I dined on an assortment of salami, cheese, jam, tomatoes, onions and pastries from the bakery in town (those were gone after our first lunch). Our first night we camped directly below Fitz Roy and hiked up the vertical ascent to Fitz Roy´s mirador in the morning to catch the sun´s early rays on it´s peaks.

The second night we stayed near Cerro Torre where we collected our water from a river hat had recent memories of being a glacier. From our campground, it was a short hike to the glacier itself, along with it´s corresponding tairn and the source of our river. From Cerro Torre it was an easy three hour hike back into town and to the scrumptious hot-water showers and the friendly Alberto at our hostel.

Mount Tronador and Laguna Ilum

First off, don´t ever trust a Swedish girl with hippie braids who is trying to convince you to hike a lagoon in the Patagonian mountains. More on that later.

The hike up to Mount Tronador, a stunning glacier-filled mountain outside of Bariloche, offered amazing views of several receding glaciers, a glacier-fed waterfall and snow-topped mountains. We camped about 20 meteres from a glacier and had beautiful mountain views outside of our tent that were reminiscent of the North Cascades. In fact, most of the trees, bushes and groundcover looked eerily similar to those found in Washington, perhaps due to the fact that both locales are located around 50 degrees latitude, albeit in different hemispheres.

After hiking the 18km down from Mt. Tronador, we chatted with the aforementioned Swedish girl who told us about the ¨magical Laguna Ilum¨ whose trailhead was a mere 50 meters away. I think her exact words when describing it were :a paradise for the soul¨. So, although it was 4 PM, we were tired and the first 8 KM of the trek was fairly steep according to the Swedish girl, we shrugged our backpacks back on and gave it a go.

After a pleasant walk through a meadow and a slightly sketchy river crossing, we discovered what she meant by fairly steep. The mountain shot straight up with the faint outline of a dusty trail running parallel. There were no switchbacks and only spiky bamboo shoots along the trail to grab when gravity started to pull you backwards. We spent the next three hours fighting our way uphill, cursing the Swedish girl and her paradise (well, maybe that was just me) until we reached a rocky outcropping that signified the top of our climb. From there on out, the path meandered gently through forested areas with little undergrowth and even less wildlife. In fact, it was pookily quiet, as if we were the only thing living within miles. Finally however, awe broke out of the enchangted forest and reached the now legendary Laguna Ilum. I will admit, it was beautiful, but I don´t know if my soul was rejoicing in this new-found paradise. It was a small mountain tairn with sandy beaches and a stunning view of Mt. Tronador. We spent the night up there and then endured the knee-breaking downhill with thoughts of Mexican food invading our head.