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And magic is what I have found. It is everywhere, it permeates the landscape, the animals and the people. Here the monkeys come first, before everything else. We are here for them and it is an awesome privilege. I've been working with the smallest babies since Sunday, four days ago. They were brought in here because their mothers had been shot by farmers who couldn't quite bring themselves to shoot the tiny babies clinging to their breasts. So they arrive totally traumatised and it is our job to give them the love and security necessary for survival. I've been bottle feeding the babies and they lie in the crook of my arm and gaze at me as they suckle. My particular favourite is Felix. In South Africa Felix is a name given to both males and females and this Felix is a girl. She's also the smallest but, boy, is she feisty. She was feeding yesterday when one of the other monkeys, Bigfoot, made a grab for the bottle. The battle that ensued was titanic. Noses were punched, eyes nearly gouged, hair was pulled and shrieks rent the air. Mine. Felix won the day, climbed up onto my face and inserted her finger into my left nostril. This apparently is a sign that they love you but when her tiny pink tongue made its way up into my right nostril I experienced a sensation quite unlike any other, and certainly indescribable. I was somewhat relieved to discover that we are to discourage this behaviour as, should it continue into adult life, and a much larger finger was inserted into the aforementioned nostril, it would undoubtedly pierce the brain and death would probably ensue. So having explained this to Felix, she forced that tiny pink tongue into my mouth and I found myself French kissing a baby Vervet monkey! Opportunities for writing are quite rare so I will write at length about the monkeys when I return to England. My wounds are healing here and I have been experiencing huge and frequent mood changes, but I already know that when I leave Africa it will be as a more complete person than the one who arrived.
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