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.
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