Will Self - Great Apes

‘We are on the cusp,’ she went on conducting as they worked their way through the fish, ‘of a catastrophe of enormous dimensions, a catastrophe that we, as chimpanzees, will live to regret fervently—’

‘And that is “h’huu”?’ Simon couldn’t prevent himself from snapping.

‘That is, my “grnn” human friend, the extinction of your psychic conspecifics in the wild. Yes “HoooGraa” within fifty years there will almost certainly be no humans left in the wild, and gone with them will be our chances of redeeming ourselves spiritually. We would do well to remember what Schumacher gestured: If chimpunity wins the battle against nature — we will find ourselves on the losing side!’

As Rauhschutzfingered, it became apparent to all the English chimps that she didn’t altogether mind the prospect of chimpunity being on the losing side, that she had gone so far in her drive to identify with the mind of the human that she had lost sight of some of the more basic chimpanzee virtues. Apart from the requisite cursory grooming session on their arrival, Simon noticed that Rauhschutz hardly touched at all. Her signing was all airy-fairy, none of it truly inparted. More than that, despite the automatic rifles her camp bonobos ported and the refugees scuttling down the road from Nyarabanda they were intended to fend off, the hideous massacres that were going on to the north were of no concern to her.

If she put the finger on them at all, it was only to mark some irritating fall-out from the apocalypse, in the shape of shortages of supplies, or inconvenience of travel, or — and this really exercised her — danger to her rehabilitated and wild human groups. Even Simon found this callous disregard for the lives of millions of her fellow chimpanzees hard to stomach, but worse was to come; because there was a caste conflict underway that did really upset Rauhschutz, a conflict that she thought more important and vital than any other, and that was the one between her and the international anthropological hierarchy.

‘They “hooo” denote me an ugly dyke,’ she stabbed at them. ‘They imply that I have sexual relations with my humans “euch-euch”. Isn’t this just typical. Isn’t this always the way that they ignore and debase females in our society “h’huuu”? I care too much about animals — therefore I must be mating with them, because, being female, my desire for sex is everything “wraaa”! So, at one fell stroke, they discredit me — and they condemn my humans, my beautiful humans, to an ultimate wilderness — a wilderness of extinction “wraaaf”!’

As if responding to this impassioned cry, there now came an answering, but far deeper vocalisation from the darkness of the surrounding jungle. A cry, which to Simon was at once remote to the point of being alien, and hauntingly familiar. All the chimps fell signless and novocal, they turned in their seats to muzzle the approximate direction of the creature who had given voice. Busner signed for all of them, ‘Show me, Madam Rauhschutz, is that one of your humans now “huu”? We haven’t seen any since we arrived.’

She took a long pull on her cheroot before replying, and when she signed, the accompanying vocalisations were in the form of dribbles and poots of grey smoke, that dangled from her rough chin fur like temporary beards. “‘Gru-nnn” yes, that will be the humans, Dr Busner, the poor humans. The wild ones here at Gombe range far and wide, but the ones I have “chup-chupp” personally rehabilitated tend to stay near to the camp. In the late afternoon they swagger several miles off to an isolated bay, for bathing activities. They are now returning to make their night shelters. If you “aaaa” listen carefully enough, you will hear the other members of the group responding.’

The chimps squatted still novocal and signless, and listened as they had been bidden. Simon felt his hackles rise, and clutched his glass of schnapps tightly. He concentrated on the whirring of the night-time sounds, the pulse and chirrup of cicadas, the tiny whoosh of moths, then he heard it again, “Fuuuuuuckooooooffff-Fuuuuuuckoooooooffff.” It was so strange — Simon looked around the table at the other chimps. All of them were intent on the human’s calls, but did they — as he did — discern within those deep, harsh cries the anger and despair that he could. They showed no sign of it.

“Fuuuuuuckoooooffff-Fuuuuuuuckooooofff,” a different human responded. Then another responded to this second animal, then a third, then a fourth, until the deep burbles of sound were coming crashing in like agglutinative waves.

This went on for some minutes, then slowly died away. There was a last, slightly higher-pitched “Fuuuuckoooofff” then novocal. Rauhschutz, a great grin pasted across her muzzle, conducted the table, ‘“Gru-nnn” the human night chorus, possibly one of the most awesome and profound noises there is in nature. Once heard — it is never forgotten. We are “chup-chupp” so privileged, my allies, to be able to witness this. Those humans were once confined in zoos, or experimental compounds. They have been infected with chimpanzee diseases and abused by chimpanzee keepers — now a chimpanzee has got them their freedom “HoooGraaa”!’

‘“H’huuu” please, Madam Rauhschutz,’ Busner flicked respectfully, ‘did that particular set of calls have any meaning?’

Rauhschutzgrinned at this enquiry and countersigned, ‘Yes, it does, Dr Busner. That is the human nesting vocalisation. It’s a tender exhortation by the male humans to the females, saying that the night shelters are prepared and it is time for mating activity to begin. And, ladies and gentlechimps, it is “h’hoooo” time for nest for us too. Welcome once more to Camp Rauhschutz. Dr Busner, I will expect you and your “grnn” allies to be up at dawn. Biggles ranges some miles from here and you will need to make an early start. As for your contingent, Mr Van Grijn, I have a very thorough programme arranged for you too “HoooGraaa”!’

With this final pant-hoot, the maverick anthropologist drummed on the table top, vaulted over the veranda railing and disappeared into the stygian night, two of her tough bonobos flanking her. There was the sound of rustling in the undergrowth and she was gone.

Around the still novocal table, the members of the Busner–Dykes group exchanged meaningful looks with one another. The same thought scampering through all their low brows, brachiating in the cellular branches of their brain tissue. Could it be that Ludmilla Rauhschutz really did practise what she preached? That the male humans’ cries were a summons for her — as well as their own females? That Rauhschutz, even now, was engaged in a perverse act of interspecific mating?

Busner, Dykes, Knight, Higson and Bob the gofer got bipedal, and presenting low to the Dutch chimps and the bonobos who were still lingering in the shadows, they picked their way back across the still warm expanse of muddy compound to their quarters.

Once safely inside, Busner lit the gas lamp and without any preamble they engaged in a speedy round of mating. It might have been the tense atmosphere during the meal, or the still tenser atmosphere that prevailed generally at Camp Rauhschutz, but whatever the cause Janet had within the last couple of hours begun to show — even if only very slightly, and she was more than willing to be covered by the males. Simon, thrusting, tooth-clacking and coming in a matter of seconds, was just as speedily calmed. After the crazy antics of the anthropologist, and the still acquiescence of the Dutch animal rights fanatics, it was beautifully reassuring and soporific to lie in the disordered embrace of a post-coital grooming session. It was all they could manage to find their own nests and crawl under the mosquito nets before sleep enfolded them.