A Monkey Eats Anne’s Lunch. Literally.

We had already been warned several times already on the trip to be wary of the monkeys. Actually, what they normally said was something along the lines of “We’ve a bit of a monkey problem. So, just keep an eye out for them.”

Of course, we barely even saw a monkey up to this point. We’d heard a story of monkeys slipping into the chalet of two women at our first lodge (housekeeping was a little careless about keeping the doors closed as they straightened up the rooms). Several of the creatures got in and tore through the mini bar (read: small tray with some teabags, sugar, and a few cookies) and made off with a packet of Dairy Milk. No harm though, except that one pooped on the bed.

We’d soon find out that Botswana doesn’t do anything half-assed. The lodge manager offered to get us a late lunch before we rested up for dinner. I was wandering around the main lodge snapping pix while Anne was doing deep breathing and contemplating the relative benefits of benzos versus SSRIs in these situations. A few words on the lodge itself- just gorgeous, decorated in a colonial style with big leather sofas, cushy pillows, tons of old books and almanacs to peruse and a huge fireplace that would keep the place cozy at night. This too was wide open to the elements and the animals with nary a screen in sight.

When they brought our food, the monkeys started to take a much keener interest in these weary travelers. And before long, we were completely surrounded. Once again, too dumb to be afraid, I held my camera up to take a snap of a particularly brazen article who had made his way to the table next to ours. It was a rookie mistake, letting that little rat get so close. Before we knew it, the rascal had jumped right over Anne’s shoulder, grabbed half of her sandwich and retreated to a not-so-safe distance about 3 feet away.




Anne was shrieking. I was screeching a blue streak of curses that would make a sailor blush. The monkey was twitchy, but otherwise unconcerned. The staff came running. The lodge manager was wielding a gun. It was all very exciting. Even though the gun was a paint pellet shooter and the manager was a lousy shot, the monkeys hit the bricks and we made the manager stay with us until we were ready to go back to our chalet.