Monkey meat is thought to be an aphrodisiac and much favoured by many Chinese men especially those in Hong Kong and Southern China. A proof of its effectiveness was evidenced in the curing of whooping cough amongst some of the children belonging to my father's workers. It occurred to a few loggers who had followed my father to work in the Maran jungle that there was a huge population of a certain specie up in the trees that they were cutting down, so one morning a group of them decided to catch them using an ingenious plan they had devised.
My father had advised them against capturing the monkeys, but somewhat briefly , as he did not want them to think he was dead against their traditional favourite lest he might offend the whole group of Southerners. There was an uneasy feeling with regards to these animals that my father had felt that morning but he did not reveal it after considering the amount of eagerness these men had that fateful morning.
As one of the men were cutting down a huge tree laden with the chattering animals ,who might be calling out to their clans about the impending danger, the other men, about half a dozen of them, laid in wait for the tree to topple. Finally when the notch was done and the giant tree was creaking in weakness, some of the men moved towards the falling trunk. Unfortunately one of them went too far ahead while trying to cast a net over the squealing animals that he was hit on the back by one of the smaller branches of the monstrous tree. That impact was fatal and it had broken his neck. His friend who was behind him saw what had happened and thinking that he had merely fallen without any unbecoming danger, he went forward to hold him up. To his shock, he saw that his friend was limp as a cloth and his eyes that were still opened were lifeless. He shouted to the rest but they were too busy with their catch to hear him. It was only after some time when they caught a glimpse of his crying face that they realised something dreadful had happened.
My father was informed and very quickly my father drove his Land Rover to the site. A few men carried the lifeless body onto the truck and my father drove as quickly as he could to the nearest hospital. Nothing could be done, the doctors said. He had broken his spinal cord and he had died immediately.
After getting the death certificate, my father had to make a police report. He felt responsible, at least it was how the police sounded. It was a bad day; nobody felt like eating anything. Damn those monkeys! Someone was heard cursing that, but those monkey catchers were still unwilling to let go of the captive animals that seemed to be gibbering curses in the makeshift cage.
My father announced that they broke camp for a few days and instructed some elderly ones to stay behind to keep watch over things. He would not trust the younger ones for they would be too busy with gambling and drinking to know what was going on. My father and a few of the dead man's friends went back to their hometown to attend the funeral. By that time the deceased had been brought home by the hospital ambulance. At the funeral my father and the group of men he brought along with were scolded by the widow of the dead man. After they had paid their respects, they all went home with a heavy heart. Can they be blamed for what was fateful?
A week had passed and the horrible incident was almost forgotten due to the labourious work in the jungle that was even harder to tolerate than the guilt of causing a friend's death. One of the men volunteered to kill the three monkeys in captive to make a meal out of them.That evening the whole camp of men, young and old, were smacking their lips and enjoying the delicacy that one of the men had prepared. It was monkey meat cooked with brandy!
My father had advised them against capturing the monkeys, but somewhat briefly , as he did not want them to think he was dead against their traditional favourite lest he might offend the whole group of Southerners. There was an uneasy feeling with regards to these animals that my father had felt that morning but he did not reveal it after considering the amount of eagerness these men had that fateful morning.
As one of the men were cutting down a huge tree laden with the chattering animals ,who might be calling out to their clans about the impending danger, the other men, about half a dozen of them, laid in wait for the tree to topple. Finally when the notch was done and the giant tree was creaking in weakness, some of the men moved towards the falling trunk. Unfortunately one of them went too far ahead while trying to cast a net over the squealing animals that he was hit on the back by one of the smaller branches of the monstrous tree. That impact was fatal and it had broken his neck. His friend who was behind him saw what had happened and thinking that he had merely fallen without any unbecoming danger, he went forward to hold him up. To his shock, he saw that his friend was limp as a cloth and his eyes that were still opened were lifeless. He shouted to the rest but they were too busy with their catch to hear him. It was only after some time when they caught a glimpse of his crying face that they realised something dreadful had happened.
My father was informed and very quickly my father drove his Land Rover to the site. A few men carried the lifeless body onto the truck and my father drove as quickly as he could to the nearest hospital. Nothing could be done, the doctors said. He had broken his spinal cord and he had died immediately.
After getting the death certificate, my father had to make a police report. He felt responsible, at least it was how the police sounded. It was a bad day; nobody felt like eating anything. Damn those monkeys! Someone was heard cursing that, but those monkey catchers were still unwilling to let go of the captive animals that seemed to be gibbering curses in the makeshift cage.
My father announced that they broke camp for a few days and instructed some elderly ones to stay behind to keep watch over things. He would not trust the younger ones for they would be too busy with gambling and drinking to know what was going on. My father and a few of the dead man's friends went back to their hometown to attend the funeral. By that time the deceased had been brought home by the hospital ambulance. At the funeral my father and the group of men he brought along with were scolded by the widow of the dead man. After they had paid their respects, they all went home with a heavy heart. Can they be blamed for what was fateful?
A week had passed and the horrible incident was almost forgotten due to the labourious work in the jungle that was even harder to tolerate than the guilt of causing a friend's death. One of the men volunteered to kill the three monkeys in captive to make a meal out of them.That evening the whole camp of men, young and old, were smacking their lips and enjoying the delicacy that one of the men had prepared. It was monkey meat cooked with brandy!
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