The man’s brother knew keeping a chimp was illegal in Cameroon, and he reported the situation to the sanctuary. When Gnala was just weeks old, a wealthy Cameroonian businessman bought her from a poacher.
Chimpanzee hand axe series#
It can spark a series of events that irrevocably change a wild animal and may even threaten her life. But human touch outside of a real sanctuary-even if that touch is sweet-harms, and that harm cuts deep. She needs frequent, reassuring contact to support her development. Sanctuary staff must touch Gnala to help her. In my work, I found that our touch presents a conundrum when it comes to chimpanzees. Would playing with (healthy) visitors really hurt her? How does any of this do harm? Gnala arrived at the SYCR wanting human touch. For a little money, tourists can snuggle a sloth, swim with a baby tiger, or even tickle a rambunctious little chimp. Around 80 percent of reviewers failed to identify problematic practices as harmful many comments praised organizations that offer close encounters with wildlife. In a 2015 study, zoologists at the University of Oxford analyzed visitor feedback on WTAs on the online review forum TripAdvisor. Somewhere between 3.6 and 6 million tourists visit wildlife tourist attractions (WTA) annually. These organizations are trying to educate a public that seems largely unaware of the link between playful touch and harm. Moreover, this touch-even if it is playful-can harm chimps and other wild animals by igniting a desire for human interaction. They say that visitor illness, easily communicated through touch, can kill a young chimpanzee. Sanctuary accreditation organizations, such as the Pan African Sanctuary Alliance (PASA), can refuse to accredit facilities that allow visitors to touch primates. They discourage wildlife enthusiasts from visiting “fake sanctuaries” that let tourists play with wild animals. National Geographic, PETA, and even Instagram draw explicit links between human touch and harm. In recent years, wildlife sanctuaries, conservation organizations, and animal rights groups have told the public to stop touching chimpanzees and other wild animals. When caregivers used chimpanzee gestures to signal the end of playtime, Gnala charged in for more, laughing, biting, and scratching with abandon. Gnala solicited tickling like other chimps: presenting her back to the tickler, scrunching her shoulders up to her ears, and raising her hands as if to shield her neck from the almost unbearable pleasure of it all. By her second day, she enthusiastically sought human touch. Some scream or bang their heads against things, while others bite the caregivers who try to comfort them. Orphaned chimpanzees that have been beaten by humans, isolated for long periods of time, or stuffed into boxes for transport and sale arrive at the sanctuary visibly terrified. The SYCR, like more than a dozen other accredited primate sanctuaries in Africa, provides lifelong care for chimpanzees orphaned by the illegal pet, zoo, entertainment, and bushmeat trades. Her biting, pinching, and hair pulling earned her the nickname “Little Devil.” I suggested Gnala, which means “sweetheart” in Zarma, a language I spoke while serving in the Peace Corps in Niger 10 years earlier. Big ears framed a light-brown face, and her wide, honey-colored eyes made her seem perpetually surprised. The sanctuary had asked their Facebook followers to suggest names for a newly rescued chimp. At a year old, Gnala (pronounced “Nya-la”) was the youngest chimp at the Sanaga-Yong Chimpanzee Rescue (SYCR) when I arrived there. During my fieldwork in chimpanzee sanctuaries, I would be bitten-multiple times-by Gnala. It did.īeing bitten was not what I expected when I traveled to Cameroon in 2015 for 18 months of dissertation research. While typing field notes, I stopped midsentence to poke the bruise and see if it still hurt. Small, teeth-shaped scabs crusted over its center. The bruise on my bicep was starting to purple.