Things about Baboons...

...are the things of nightmares.

I have just applied for a wonderful job as a travel research writer. On the off chance that my potential employer reads this (thank you if you are a potential employer and reading this!), I thought it high time I published another wee travel story.

This one takes place in Botswana in March of 2009. I was camping by the Chobe River, a most spectacular location by the national park where elephants run rampant and warthogs try to nose their way into your tent at night. Baboons won't wait for nightfall, however, and will go to rather extreme measures to procure food from nearby tents. The campsite's facilities ranged in accommodation from the very sparse to the most luxurious. My budget put me in lower class section, which was a short walk away from the fancy parts. There was a glorious pool, bar and restaurant with a magnificent deck overlooking the river, and a boardwalk through the trees to reach my tent. Adorable little monkeys dotted the boardwalk, playing chase with one another and scurrying out of sight as soon as a human walked their way. It was all very quaint, in an African kind of way.

Walking back to my tent to quickly grab my towel and return to the pool, I made my way across the boardwalk and just about walked into a monkey approximately six billion times the size (roughly) of any other monkey I had seen that day. I took a step back and froze. I looked at him. He looked at me. It could have been love, but I don't think that was exactly the look in his eye. I thought about walking back the way I came, then talked myself out of it. Inner monologue proceeded as follows:

"Don't be silly Ernid, this monkey lives in a campsite. He's used to people. All the other monkeys retreat as soon as they hear someone coming. This one looks like he can smell my fear. Just stand tall, keep walking, and he'll clear out."

So stand tall I did. I puffed out my chest in order to look fearless, and quite literally strutted my way forward. The monkey jumped up onto the railing, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He must have been convinced that I had right of way. Or perhaps not... Instead of scurrying away, he climbed along the railing in my direction. Turning to face me, he crouched. It looked suspiciously like the position a wild monkey might adopt, were he to pounce on a bypassing human.

I had about .6 of a second to decide on my next move. The first .2 of that second were taken up thus:

"I could take this guy on. I'm bigger than him (just) and surely I would come out on top in a fight."

The remaining .4 of a second thankfully revealed a change of heart:

"This thing has claws, it has teeth, it has rabies... RUN!!!"

And run I did. The thongs I was wearing didn't exactly lend themselves to the amazing burst of speed I so desperately required, and I was cursing my choice of footwear as this creature chased after me. He was screeching and screaming, which I assumed was his way of swearing and banishing me from his hood. I think he must've given up pretty quickly, probably after seeing the super-human speeds I had hitherto never been capable of. The chase only lasted a few seconds, but I ran all the way to my tent and zipped the door tight shut. Phew, that was close!

I was absolutely terrified of walking back to my friends on the other side of the boardwalk, and it took me a good half hour to work up the courage to return, and only after a change of footwear at that. All the cocky bravado of earlier had vanished. I was regaling this tale to my tentmate Ingvild, a lovely girl from Norway who had lived in Ethiopia for three years. She asked me to describe this monkey to her, and gave me that "you're an idiot" look I am only too familiar with. She explained that I was right to run instead of fight, stupid to even consider otherwise, and that this monkey was in fact a baboon, which could have killed me with no strenuous amount of effort. Also, looking him in the eye was a bit of a no-no. Highly territorial animals, I had inadvertently threatened his ownership of the area. Good call.

This self-rescuing princess needs saving from nothing!
(Could possibly use job from generous travel writing types)