The Attack Of The Junk Food Monkeys

 

Buddha statue in center-city Kandy, Sri Lanka.

     It was a stifling hot afternoon in the holy city of Kandy, in the highlands of central Sri Lanka.  A temple there is believed to hold a fragment of the Buddha's tooth and is a major draw for pilgrims.  I was in the midst of another of my world trips, this one in 2016, where I fly to the other side of the world and tour various Asian countries.  

Sri Lanka, formerly known as Ceylon, was a British colony until 1948.

     Laying in bed with a big-bladed fan whirring overhead, I was preoccupied reading the U.S. news on my tablet.  I often did this to escape the mid-day heat.  The door to the balcony was left open, to aid in air circulation.  I never dreamed that anything would bother me two stories up – especially at mid-day.

     Suddenly hair on the back of my neck stood up as something hunched and hairy troddled on into the room!  I went still as a statue as a macaque monkey, scraggly and shedding patches of hair, bee lined across in front of my bed.  Daring not to even move my head, I followed using only my eyeballs as it ambled to a bureau but arm's length away.  It snatched up a bag containing two fish pockets and a Milo, a carton of chocolate milk.

     The creature was so close that I could smell it!  And it wasn't a pleasant smell, I can tell you.

     Another macaque was hopping about with excitement in the doorway.  Both screeched it up like banshees and retreated out onto the porch with their booty.

Carton of Milo and fish pocket

  

     Fish pockets are a type of croissants, similar to empanadas in Latin America.  They're spiced up and filled with various things, from meats to vegees, and are popular in that part of the world.  Mine were filled with green fish paste, of all things.  As repulsive as that might sound, I had become fond of them and often had them as a snack.

     Problem is, as far monkeys are concerned anyhow, they give off an odor that can waft off for a distance, especially when enhanced by the tropical heat.

     The thief retreated out onto the roof, proceeded to tear apart the bag and woof my fish pockets!  No unselfish creature this, it tossed the Milo to its accomplice, perched on the railing.  A biological male (to use today's terminology) as well as a chocolate lover evidently, he tore the carton apart.  Most of it spilled out onto his throat and chest, but he did manage to guggle some down in the process.

The perpetrators in the act.  Note the one holding a fish pocket -- my fish pocket.  

     Drawn by their exuberant squawking, other monkeys zeroed in – some swinging in Tarzan-style using branches.  One, a female, had a baby clutching her chest as she shimmied in upside down using the phone line.  In short order, six or seven were perched on the railing or heading that way.  Not only were they ugly as sin, they were showing their teeth, making guttural noises.

     I slammed the door.  The windows had bars in them like a jail cell.  Upon checking into the guest house a few days earlier, I had wondered what they were for -- now I was about to find out and real fast.

     Long sinewy arms poked in between the bars, groping wildly for something, anything within.  One grabbed at my shirt sleeve.  I beat it off with a flip-flop.  I seized a hairy wrist; tried to thrust it back out, only have it overpower me and be thrust back in.  For a while, it was a veritable tug of war, mono a mono.  Strong-armed critters, I can vouch for that.  (Of course, I might be too, if I swung around in trees all day.)

     The shutters there were hung inside the room, so that they swung inside to out to seal off the window.  Yelling like a madman, I managed to bang the wooden shutter shut, only to have them scream back in outrage.

     With the window thus secured, I took a breath or two, heart pulsing, and thought that the episode was over...

View of Kandy, the holy city.

     Until out of the side of my eye I saw the door inching open – in the excitement I hadn't set the locking bolt!  JUNKFOOD-CRAZED PRIMATES WERE BUNCHED UP OUTSIDE INTENT TO GET IN!!!

     I flew over and rammed a shoulder up against the door.  On the other side, more screaming and jabbering accompanied by bumpings and thrashings.         

     By now my heart wasn't just pulsing, it was thumping – I stood with back wedged up against the door, panting like a dog, arms outstretched back like a crucifix...  

     About then – BOOOM!  Shortly after that, another – BOOOM!        

     The manager realized my plight and tossed up a few "monkey busters” –  along the lines of powerful cherry bombs – and these drove them off.  I ventured a glance outside and saw nothing on the porch except fecal droppings and some torn-up wrappings.  This time it really was over.

     Afterwards the manager told me, “Monkeys really like fish pockets, Mr. James.”

     “Tell me about it!” I gasped back at him.

Spices of Sri Lanka.

     Never underestimate the power of Sri Lankan spices upon man or beast – especially regarding green fish paste – seems to be the lesson here.

     Or the allure of Coca-Cola.  As the photo below shows, humans aren't the only ones taken with the stuff.  The young monkey kept tipping up the can, licking at the opening for any last drop -- a junk food monkey in the making.

     It turned out be quite a stay at that guest house:  A while later on, a cobra, the so-called King of Snakes, was spotted in the neighbor's yard and set off another mini-frenzy.  How that turned out, as they say, is another story for another time.

Your humble correspondent taking refreshment after the ordeal.

THE END