Easter Monkey April 22
Easter break starts on Friday and continues through Monday. Sunday is a major holiday, reminding us that Trinidad is a Catholic country. Indeed, without French Catholicism, Carnival would have no context. Easter Monday is also another national holiday, and no one complains. However, the Massy is closed on Good Friday as well, and I am ready to blow a gasket. I sympathize with spending time with family and “relaxin’”, as I commonly hear, but I also need bananas.
I take advantage of the clear roads to tour the Savannah and visit the National Museum, which is closed, as is We Food, on Charlotte Street, where I was told I could reliably find Roti’s for lunch. The only food I can find is at the Emperor Valley Zoo, on the far side of the Savannah. The aloe pies are sold out. There is one Chimpanzee in a giant enclosure, which is not a good sign for chimp health at the zoo. The Capuchin monkeys must be particularly tormented in captivity, as wild ones wander free in the hills above Lady Chancellor.
The Savannah is alive on Saturday night, filling with white tents as if it is Carnival weekend all over again. The big fuss is for Buju Banton, Jamaica’s reggae ex-felon superstar. His “I Am Legend“ tour brings a festival of music on Easter Sunday. Meanwhile, TT Guardian reports that another Buju is chopped dead with a cutlass, on the Eastern Main Road in Laventille. His real name was Selwyn King. He is number 150 in 2019, a lower count than last year, but no one is celebrating. Police are out in force in expectation of gang conflict.
We begin our first annual Easter Sunday Monkey Count at the Chaguaramas golf course, heading into the forest behind the fourth tee, on the tip that the paw paw trees have ripe fruit. Four Red Howlers are lounging in a dense bamboo grove, including two juveniles. They are the color of Irish Setters. The adult has a very ape-like face, staring through my binoculars like a slightly peeved Dr. Zaius. None of them makes a peep, that is, until we walk away. Then they erupt in belches and roars worthy of King Kong.
Across the ninth fairway, we make our way up the dry trail to Edith Falls, passing a giant Castilian rubber tree, and a smaller one covered in cutlass chops. Long straight roots jut in all directions, connecting the trees like exposed plumbing. Sue finds a cacao fruit ripped open to reveal its milky white seeds. Sounds of a cuckoo clock reveal the presence of two black Oropendola, named for their golden beak, tail, and legs, as well as the song of a pendulum wall clock. Like the Chachalaca, another big bird with a big mouth and a big appetite, these often show up in the vicinity of sloppy monkeys. Steve spots a Capuchin on a high branch. When I strain for a view, the canopy suddenly comes to life with motion. There must be at least 20 monkeys directly overhead, at thirty to fifty feet, lunging from tree to tree like trapeze performers. Chewed pieces of food drop onto us and to the waiting birds.
We celebrate the record-breaking Easter Day Count with a first annual Easter swim at Macqueripe Beach, and still there are more monkeys, at least five Capuchins descending from almond trees on the western headwall. We excitedly motion to nearby bathers at the marvelous scene, to which they shrug, as if this is all completely ordinary.
“Higher monkey climb, more he show he ass.“