The Story of Ucun, the orphaned orangutan

[Guest guest]

Words...how do I find the words?

A few days ago I was playing with Ucun in the nursery forest. He was full of

life, making his way to me as soon as I appeared. Settling in my lap and playing

endlessly with my hands and feet and begging for tickles by showing me precisely

where to tickle him. He squeezed my nose, I am sure expecting it to squeak like

so many of the soft toys the babies have. He gently touched my eyelashes, sucked

on my chin, and and clutched at my curls. I wrote just one sentence about him:

" Ucun now seems to be my best friend in Nursery. "

 

Today, Ucun began his third day of seriously high fever. Now on an IV as well as

oxygen, head babysitter Yati tried to bring down his fever with cold water

compresses. I went back to the house to get frozen compresses, and we wrapped

them up in soft flannel and applied them to his forehead, back of neck and

armpits. Ucun was nearly unconscious, but every 5 minutes or so, his small body

writhed in pain as his body cramped, his hands and feet clenched. Yati whispered

his name gently to him over and over, coaxing him to pull through the seizures.

And they

would stop, and we'd sigh a sigh of relief that it was over this time. But

minutes later, they began again.

 

There was little more I could do. I knew Ucun was in the best hands. Yati has

worked with us since the beginning, and has nursed countless orangutans through

their toughest days. The medics were visiting regularly, and second test for

malaria was being run, the first having been negative. I'd been asked to take

some photos of some of the others in nursery, and being my last day at the

project, I knew this had to be done. I left Ucun with Yati and a second

babysitter and went to nursery forest to photograph the charming antics of the

likes of Diego and Pickle. But first I looked in on Inka. She was sitting up in

her basket,

drinking a bottle, and the babysitter was brushing some sand off her face. I

asked how the sand came to be on her face, and the babysitter proudly announced

that Inka not only had taken her first steps out of her basket, she had climbed

and played as well. And as if to prove the point, Inka stretched up from her

basket, clutched the nearest branch of the climbing frame in which she was

situated, and heaved herself out of the basket and along the branch using all

four hands and feet! Her almost inaudible squeaks betrayed her delight at this

triumph.

 

I moved onto the isolation unit, to photograph Nita, Kle, Clara, Pista and

Frankie. Poor Frankie has been sick off and on the whole time he has been at

Nyaru Menteng. The past two days he has been flat out, barely conscious, on both

IV and oxygen. But today, he was off IV, sitting up and his eyes wide open and

clear. When Clara was offered a bottle, Frankie's eyes lit up, signalling he'd

like the same, and the babysitters quickly obliged him. He drank 4 full bottles

one after the other, and then had a little burp! Everyone was delighted. As I

sat with

Frankie, he had a little chat with me, and he placed my hands around his tummy

and guided me to pat him. It was raining hard outside, so the whole group was

in, and we had got out loads of toys that squeaked and rattled and sang, and Kle

was doing his best to beat them all unconscious. Pista used a towel to dress up

as Mother Theresa, and Nita sucked on the ears of a toy elephant. The 2

babysitters with me were so good with the orangutans, and gave them so much love

and attention. Of

course they all do, but at this moment, these 2 stood out, and I

thought, I must mention these two to Lone as exceptional. Just then Hanni walked

in, looked at all of us, and said, " Ucun baru

meninggal " -- " Ucun has just died. "

 

How quickly joy turns to heartache with just 3 words. Silence descended on the

room, as each of us looked at the other. Indonesians seldom cry in front of

others. But tears welled up in the eyes of Hanni and both the babysitters. The

babies played on, not noticing the despair, as we wiped our eyes.

 

The doctor carried Ucun's body back to the clinic in a sarang, and Hanni invited

me to see Ucun one last time. She also let babysitter Dewi know that Ucun's body

had arrived from nursery. Dewi was Ucun's favourite babysitter, and Ucun was

Dewi's favourite baby. In the moments before we stepped into the autopsy room,

Dewi and I embraced, and she broke down, " I have known Ucun since he was the

tiniest baby. He is so precious. "

 

Ucun's body was lifted from the deep freeze, onto the table, and Dewi gently

unwrapped the sarong from the still body. He looked perfect. His eyes were open

and his mouth slightly opened, and his body looked relaxed. He hadn't died in

seizure. He wasn't blue...he was just the colour he should have been, just the

colour he had been hours before. He was only slightly cool to the touch and his

skin so soft like velvet. And it all seemed so very, very wrong.

 

We said goodbye to Ucun, Dewi wrapped him up again, cradled his lifeless body in

her arms and kissed his head before handing him back to the doctor.

 

And now, as I write, the tears run down my face and I can find no words to

describe the loss and pain when someone so innocent and young should suffer and

die. All I can do is write what happened, and hope that someone out there will

read this and understand and care, and agree that it is so very, very wrong.

 

Michelle Desilets

International Campaigns Director

Borneo Orangutan Survival International

www.savetheorangutan.org.uk

" Primates Helping Primates "