Visit to a Distant Cousin

My visits to the zoo always included a trip to the Ape House. The large muscular primates so similar to us in many ways, but so superior to us physically were always a conundrum to me. I gravitated to the Chimpanzees and Bonobos, our nearest living relatives with over 99% shared DNA. They were  most eerie. Like staring into our own distant past, their actions mimicked our own especially when one young adolescent male annoyed the alpha male, sensed his anger and then submissively retreated. How quickly emotion had almost turned to violence, not unlike an exchange I had seen on the subway an hour before. Our thin veneer of civilization was momentarily revealed for what it is. Chimpanzees were certainly capable of killing each other in the heat of battle between tribes, but the systematic long term planning and evil machinations that humans are capable of far surpassed their level of violence.

Suddenly the old male chimp came over and sat down opposite me. Apparently he had been taught sign language as he started to sign to me. It had been many years but I still remembered having learned sign in college.

“Well I see that you have come to gloat over my incarceration and your freedom,” signed the old chimp.

I responded that I found him fascinating but did not gloat over his captivity.

“Well Mister Top of the Food Chain,” he continued. “I guess that you are very pleased with yourself.”

I responded that I had a good life.

“Yes Mister Pinnacle of Creation, I’m sure you do,” was his response.

At this point, I felt the rumblings of hunger and pulled out a zip lock bag containing green veggies, sliced apples, orange wedges, carrots, and a banana. The old primate seemed unimpressed and not desirous of my fare. I looked over Fred’s shoulder – which had turned out to be his name – at his food bowl that consisted of green vegetables, sliced apples, orange wedges, carrots and a banana. No wonder he was unmoved; we each had the same epicurean delights. Fred had no choice and I required this diet for health reasons.

“So I see that you are eating the same slop I am,” he signed.

I answered in the affirmative.

At this point the gibbons in a nearby enclosure started a ruckus. Fred peered their way with a look of disgust.

“My apologies for the neighbors,” he signed. “they are a blight on the neighborhood.”

“Don’t give it a thought,” was my response.

“You are polite for a captor, but I must point out that on the first of the month I do not need to run and hide if the head zookeeper happens to pass by. In addition, there are no co-pays or deductibles on my medical coverage. I do not need to concern myself with gas or electric bills and car payments or credit card balances do not enter my consciousness. I live behind steel bars of your making while you live behind financial bars constructed by yourself!”

Before leaving, he left me with one more gesture universally understood by all New Yorkers without studying sign. At this point Fred sauntered away in disgust to rejoin his family. I was in shock at this erudite summary of the human condition. I left the zoo somewhat dejected with my tail between my legs (so to speak), needing to get to the Post Office for the mailing of some overdue bills.

Jim

Sept. 2019