Monkey Business

If it's not polite to stare, as many of us were told when we were little, how then, are we to make sense out of encountering something or someone out of the ordinary?  I, too, discouraged wide-eyed gazes from my children when they were growing up,  explaining instead, that they could always ask someone a question, ensuring that it was done respectfully, and as long as their hearts were in the right place.

I was the kid who needed to look, process, think, and understand what I was seeing.  It is no secret that I am still that way, although, I have learned to be less conspicuous about situations I feel compelled to further study.  

Some things I should explain:  

* I do not gawk to secretly make fun of people.

* I do not rubberneck to be insensitive towards others.

* I do not gape to put anyone down.

* I do gawk because I'm curious.

* I do rubberneck to try and understand.

* I do gape in an attempt to learn someone's/something's story.

As a youngster, it never would have occurred to me to simply start a conversation with someone.  Having a bit of life experience under my belt, I am now quite comfortable initiating dialogue with just about anyone.....except when I can't, for instance, like the time a unique vervet monkey caught my eye while we were driving along the Ugandan mountain road.  

As an expert on Ugandan wildlife, Ham, our guide and now a friend, seized every opportunity to point out and identify the animals we came across on our travels.  It was no exception when we were nearing, and just about to pass, a troop of vervet monkeys lingering on the shoulder of the road.

"Ham!!", I bellowed.

"Stop the car!", I pleaded.

I am not certain if he was more startled, or if my tone was more insistent, but he obliged. 

Having noticed a solitary monkey perched on the guardrail, there was definitely something remarkable in his/her appearance. Its two front teeth were clearly visible, even from the distance between our yellow Land Rover and the highway railing.

I knew a smidge about vervet monkeys from my time as a docent, having studied the variety of primates who reside at the St. Louis Zoo.  Yet, none of those presented with prominent front teeth.  I quickly snapped photos, thanked Ham for accommodating my inquisitiveness, then sat back to view my handiwork.

Without even needing to enlarge the image, I recognized what had made this vervet monkey stand out from the rest of its troop:

This little being had been born with a cleft lip.

I studied the photo for some time, then enlarged it, and handed it silently to Ham. 

After a moment:

"He/(She) has a cleft lip.", I reported.

"Have you ever seen that before, Ham?", I wanted to know.

"I never have," he confessed.

My desire to know this primate's "story" was overwhelming.  I was worried about his life; if he/she had plenty of monkey friends; if the other mammals within the species, somehow, made fun of it (however monkeys do that); if this little creature knew that he/she had a facial dissimilarity from its peers; if it had experienced rejection from its mother - a phenomenon that frequently occurs within the animal kingdom; if he/she could and would live a normal life among its troop or be ostracized instead.  

Ham, who, by this time in our trip, seemed to know and understand me, simply said:

"He is going to be fine. This monkey is not a baby, which tells me that the other ones have accepted him as one of their own."

Relief flooded through me, knowing that the road ahead of him/her (on the guardrail or off!), would not be fraught with loneliness and that he/she would live with a sense of belonging.

I began thinking of this primate, with its atypical facial characteristic and equating the situation to how, we as people, treat each other. Kids may not realize that the unkind words often used towards their peers who are different in some way, can leave a lasting mark - perhaps not a visible scar, but one that imprints on someone else's heart, impacting their self-esteem, self-worth, self-confidence, and self-image.  

Really, it all begins with children and what we convey to them - how to treat their siblings, their classmates, people who may not mirror their skin color, or the number of limbs they  have.  If only we could reinforce the idea that, regardless of how distinctive others may be, we are more alike than different. 

What if we follow the example set by this troop of vervet monkeys, who did not distinguish the lone friend with the cleft lip from any of the others. What if we treated people who have atypical attributes - whether physical, intellectual, through strengths and weaknesses, or via a multitude of varying abilities - with the assumption that they are all beautiful, perfect, and accepted?  

It would be a start to maintaining kindness in the face of heartache, support in the midst of uncertainty, and love, when hate threatens to take us down.  Perhaps that is something we can all sink our teeth into! 

© Cre8ive Writes, LLC  2022