Fuggin Gibbons

I use many of the backpacker bars in Dili to augment my personal library. I try to only own one or two books at a time. The backpackers, mostly Australian, have a one to one book trade ratio, much better than the American, pardon the United States exchange. Whenever I'm about to finish my second book I make sure I take the time to go to the bar that has been left alone the longest. Lately I have become a literary omnivore as I have run out of simple detective novels to read. And so yesterday I picked up something by Tom Robbins. This morning, as I shoved it in me training bag, a bookmark fell out. It has a picture of a jungle treetop with three long armed Gibbons swinging merrily. Underneath in huge block letters was the admonishment "Gibbons are dying just to please you!"

I understand that this was some poor animal advocacy group trying to make me aware of the plight of these poor frolicking animals. But it was 6 am, I had been up for an hour working on revisions and had a long day ahead of me. Because of a coffee explosion I was burned and my shirt was stained and I had just caught an urchin who decided to pee on my backpack. I didn't ask for his rationale.  But it rendered the rest of my clothes un-wearable.

So I thought "Where are the gibbons who are dying to please me? They better go ace some more  goddamn Gibbons because I am not well pleased!" And this brought a smile to my face.

The day ended with an estimated  15 or 16 gibbon death deficit. With me judging silently, as things went wrong, whether each new catastrophe required one or two of the lanky monkeys fatalities to keep me happy. Some of the ones that were hard to call and I went into negotiations.  “This certainly requires the death of one gibbon, but two?  Perhaps the second one could just take a fall or get his heart broken.”

My caterer couldn't read. (1) One of my trainers has decided my training was not well written, wrote his own and then proceeded to teach it. (2) It was really hot. (gibbon with a migraine)  I look like Dilbert. (1) Lunch didn't show up.(1)

And all the while that I'm killing off Gibbons in my head,  I’m practicing the conversation with the gibbon killing people.

"Hello this is Tc in Timor is there some sort of Gibbon shortage? Yes I noticed! I kid took a whiz on my bag!  I don't want to hear your excuses! You just get your butt into  the jungle and find some Gibbons who are dying to please me!"

After work, a few Brazilian volunteers joined me at the hotel bar. I tried to explain my gibbon idea to them. Tatania, a voluptuous language trainer, gave my face a gentle slap.  She feels for these poor creatures. I ended the night listening to four concerned Brazilians explaining to me that some animals are on the verge of extinction and Gibbons are just one of them. They told me that we American know nothing of this and are causing the problems.  I took this with grace, they outnumbered me. But in my mind- Those Gibbons are still in threat.