When looking at baboon research, a common question arises: Why baboons and not some other species which is smarter and more closely related to humans? Its a question I know that I asked when I began to look into participating in primatology research. The best known of our closest primate relatives is the chimpanzee, an animal which is endangered, but still studied heavily. Why baboons and not chimps?
Well, there are the lame answers - baboons are more common and thus easier to study. They live in more easily accessibly locations, and plenty of them aren't endangered so you don't have to go around worrying so much about protecting their rights when you pick up their poop in the forest, and fly it to the northern hemisphere where you can analyze it.
However, what I (and a slew of others, of course) see as the key difference between baboons and chimpanzees is in the magnitude of their sociability. Chimps are very social animals, of course, but their maximum group size is about 60 to 70 individuals. Baboons, on the other hand, have groups which can be 100 individuals strong. A classic South African baboon book written in the 20's by a naturalist describes a troop of more than three hundred individuals.
This is a pretty big difference. Baboons have smaller brains than chimps, but they know who every individual in a troop is, they know their social rank and relations to others in the hierarchy, and they know who is descended from who, and all kinds of more complex blood relations. Chimps know much of this as well, but baboons are aware of it on effectively double the scale.
So why do we care?
Baboons provide powerful evidence in support of what ethologists call the "social intelligence hypothesis," which basically argues that the enlargement of the human brain was driven by increased complexity in social living and group size. One of the major competing hypotheses argues that increasing technological proclivity drove the development of our brains. Chimps support this hypothesis, as they excel at tool use.
How do the behaviors of two primates, baboons and chimpanzees, compare to those of humans? Humans are highly adept both socially and technologically; scientists of course admit that both factor played key roles, but which influence played the more crucial role in human development? Human maximum group size is on par with that of baboons, and far exceeds that of chimps... For very particular reason which I will get into another time (soon!), human groups should be 3 times as large as chimp groups, yet we manage to form significantly larger stable groups.
Why can we and the baboons manage to exceed expected group size? On the whole, baboons are less intelligent than chimps but still maintain bigger groups - so maybe the mental methods of baboon social intelligence are similar to our own which we use to establish such massive groups. Maybe social intelligence isn't even the most important of the hypotheses, but as long as there are correlates between us and the baboons, we stand to learn something from them about how our brains and behavior are designed to handle the complex social situations we encounter daily.
And that, is why we study baboons.
Tuesday, December 29
Wednesday, December 23
Noam, chomp your heart out...
I stumbled across a recent BBC story which discusses a pair of new papers which has found powerful evidence that Campbell's monkeys use syntax. Though their system is simple, they deliberately arrange sounds which modify the meaning of other vocalizations.
Many primatologists rightfully complain about how linguists are constantly shifting the tables against them. When Nim Chimpsky learned the meaning of words but couldn't arrange them together to form meaningful sentences, the results were dismissed. It was also argued that Nim was a poor experimental subject because of his unnatural upbringing and artificial environment. Many linguists appear to wish that language remain an exclusively human attribute, and certain aspects of language unquestionably are. But just where lays the line?
Since researchers have found non-human primates who make use of vocalizations as if they were suffixes (and mere monkeys, as well), primatologists are a step closer to determining precisely what linguistic capabilities other primates possess. This is a pretty neat little finding, and raises questions about how the potential development of language. Campbell's monkeys are far from great apes, so if they do possess stronger language functions than great apes, what does that say about the evolution of language in primate species?
This research was conducted by Klaus Zuberbuehler of St. Andrews and colleagues, and you can read the actual articles here and here. I also like how this stuff is getting published in PLoS ONE. The more legitimacy that journal accumulates, the better.
Be sure to check out the actual vocalizations and their variants on the BBC site.
Many primatologists rightfully complain about how linguists are constantly shifting the tables against them. When Nim Chimpsky learned the meaning of words but couldn't arrange them together to form meaningful sentences, the results were dismissed. It was also argued that Nim was a poor experimental subject because of his unnatural upbringing and artificial environment. Many linguists appear to wish that language remain an exclusively human attribute, and certain aspects of language unquestionably are. But just where lays the line?
Since researchers have found non-human primates who make use of vocalizations as if they were suffixes (and mere monkeys, as well), primatologists are a step closer to determining precisely what linguistic capabilities other primates possess. This is a pretty neat little finding, and raises questions about how the potential development of language. Campbell's monkeys are far from great apes, so if they do possess stronger language functions than great apes, what does that say about the evolution of language in primate species?
This research was conducted by Klaus Zuberbuehler of St. Andrews and colleagues, and you can read the actual articles here and here. I also like how this stuff is getting published in PLoS ONE. The more legitimacy that journal accumulates, the better.
Be sure to check out the actual vocalizations and their variants on the BBC site.
Thursday, December 17
Live from a field in South Africa, Part II
As promised, I now present to you the long awaited sequel to my previous silly concert post. Big American, or rather, big foreign bands don't tend to bother touring South Africa too often. From what I heard form a couple people I met at the concert, neither Radiohead nor Coldplay, who are both huge and ought to have a big British fanbase here, have ever toured this country. According to The Killers themselves, this is the first time they've been around here.
Right, so it was The Killers I went to see on a warm Sunday evening at the start of the December summer. As one might expect, the journey was more of a tale than the concert itself was. Here was the scoop - the parking opened at 4. The doors opened at 6. First band started at 7. Killers came on at 8. That was the plan. I went into this thinking that the show itself started at 6 and I was unaware of any openers. It turned out to be a good thing the Killers came on 2.5 hours later than I expected.
As I understand it, Cape Town, or rather, South Africa, does not catch the eye of big-time bands very often. So, when a band at the peak of its popularity comes through and the Capetonians haven't seen a real music act in some time, everyone seems to go. Well, all the British people, anyhow. The other Capetonians go if they like the band. The next day, there were people all over who I'd run into mentioning the concert, offhand. Often, specifically about how blasted they felt from the previous night.
Upon reaching Paarl, the site of this episode's dusty field, I realized I wasn't sure which exit to get off at. After bumbling around for about 20 minutes, I found my "people" and then realized I could just follow them to the source. Unfortunately, the source was a long way away, and the traffic was only moving slower and slower. I was doing passably well since I had the original plays of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on my player, but then the battery died. Bloody.
At one point, my neighbors directly in front of me left one of their passengers stranded (...20 meters behind) when the traffic abruptly lurched ahead for several seconds. Being the good Samaritan and novel opportunist that I am, I immediately offered to give her a lift... after she asked me for one, of course.
Name was Angela, she goes to UCT, and lives very nearby me. Not a bad deal. So, we chatted about studies and music and what in the blazes some crazy American is doing here.
Allow me a moment of exaltation. I do thoroughly enjoy the camaraderie that springs up amongst fans in such situations. I also like the fact that it quickly disappears to be replaced by harsh animosity when it comes to pushing your way through the crowd.
Angela went back to her car eventually, and the painful traffic subsided somewhat once I exited the highway.
Note to self: When driving to an event whose venue you are not familiar with - its probably best to just do what they tell you. No wait, I can't really be telling myself this. Okay me, nevermind this, I'll figure out what I was really getting at later.
I parked some distance away from the field, not realizing just how far I would need to go. Angela's advice was sadly misinforming. 200 meters was the distance to the road which lead to the field, but the field was some distance further down that road. Some means a lot.
I walked down four stretches of dusty road, alongside the slow stream of motorized vehicles which I barely outpaced. I was not alone, at least, for many had elected to park and walk as I was doing. However, for each turn down a smaller and dustier road, my spirits began to fall. How bloody far away was this place? My retrospective guess is 3 kilometers.
I arrived at the stage. Like, I said, it was a concert. In my opinion, it is difficult for concert not to be enjoyable when you're going to see a band you like and are familiar with. I wandered about the vast field for a few moments, scoping out the food and beer lines. I was nearly tempted to get in line for a burger, but then Human started playing so to hell with the burger. Flowers was even wearing that silly coat with the furry shoulders.
The crowd was large and packed. Nevertheless, I was able to push quite close to the boundary of the proletarian section. As I wormed closer to the stage, a few times I encountered some small and shrinking holes in the crowd, where everywhere around 'twas a mob. I investigated and found people hurriedly rolling up their blankets and packing their tupperwares away.
At last, revenge is mine!
That's right picnickers, I thought to myself, this is going to be a concert so you best just get up and scram. We want to the make the most of our tickets and have a crowd here, not just sit on towels, sip tea, and munch biscuits. Also, they're called COOKIES.
One of the more amusing moments of the concert itself was when you could see the violinist/sequencer guy singing along to the lyrics for everyone to see on the jumbotrons.
Flower's has a really weird voice. I don't think I've ranted about this as much as I ought (as much as I love burger king, for instance). Even when he's just talking, his voice is bizarre. Uniqueness can be a virtue in music, and he can actually sing unlike the majority of "indie rockers." Though he does look like he might be suffering from anorexia.
The set was good. You can judge it here. I think the set was a bit short for what they usually do, but I'm not very sure of this. In anticipation of the part where everyone in the crowd shouts "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" for 6 minutes during All These Things I've Done, I had my camera out for video. Alas, the memory card murdered this creation. Instead, I have found a superior video montage for you to watch.
So. I'd done my homework and was up to speed on how the Killers do their encores. I wanted out of that place quick, but I did want to see and hear the last songs in the encore. I waited outside the gate where I still had a decent view, then dashed when they finished playing When You Were Young.
And I ran. I would stop occasionally on the way back to hang with some groups of people in order to catch my breath and assuage my fear of being suddenly stabbed to death by some madman hiding in the vineyards. Eventually I reached the outer reaches, where I associated myself with a pair (those mentioned at the beginning) of colored people.
I think they were Indian, but it was hard to tell. There are also the Malay around here, who are not to be confused with Malaysians. Don't do that. We discussed much of the usual stuff like What in the blazes am I doing here and How do you like Cape Town? These two had a much more interesting and refreshing view on Cape Town, but both were still very positive about the city in spite of its dysfunction.
Second note to self: Avoid driving to concerts. You've been spoiled by going to the Palladium. Driving to big events is awful.
Yet, safely succeeded in reaching the car, and from there I drove back to Cape Town for some much desired sleep. The traffic was likely caught at a bottleneck much closer to the field, for I had no trouble getting back on the highway or riding the N1 back to CT.
...until I accidentally got onto the N7.
I hate the N7.
As I understand it, Cape Town, or rather, South Africa, does not catch the eye of big-time bands very often. So, when a band at the peak of its popularity comes through and the Capetonians haven't seen a real music act in some time, everyone seems to go. Well, all the British people, anyhow. The other Capetonians go if they like the band. The next day, there were people all over who I'd run into mentioning the concert, offhand. Often, specifically about how blasted they felt from the previous night.
Upon reaching Paarl, the site of this episode's dusty field, I realized I wasn't sure which exit to get off at. After bumbling around for about 20 minutes, I found my "people" and then realized I could just follow them to the source. Unfortunately, the source was a long way away, and the traffic was only moving slower and slower. I was doing passably well since I had the original plays of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on my player, but then the battery died. Bloody.
At one point, my neighbors directly in front of me left one of their passengers stranded (...20 meters behind) when the traffic abruptly lurched ahead for several seconds. Being the good Samaritan and novel opportunist that I am, I immediately offered to give her a lift... after she asked me for one, of course.
Name was Angela, she goes to UCT, and lives very nearby me. Not a bad deal. So, we chatted about studies and music and what in the blazes some crazy American is doing here.
Allow me a moment of exaltation. I do thoroughly enjoy the camaraderie that springs up amongst fans in such situations. I also like the fact that it quickly disappears to be replaced by harsh animosity when it comes to pushing your way through the crowd.
Angela went back to her car eventually, and the painful traffic subsided somewhat once I exited the highway.
I parked some distance away from the field, not realizing just how far I would need to go. Angela's advice was sadly misinforming. 200 meters was the distance to the road which lead to the field, but the field was some distance further down that road. Some means a lot.
I walked down four stretches of dusty road, alongside the slow stream of motorized vehicles which I barely outpaced. I was not alone, at least, for many had elected to park and walk as I was doing. However, for each turn down a smaller and dustier road, my spirits began to fall. How bloody far away was this place? My retrospective guess is 3 kilometers.
The crowd was large and packed. Nevertheless, I was able to push quite close to the boundary of the proletarian section. As I wormed closer to the stage, a few times I encountered some small and shrinking holes in the crowd, where everywhere around 'twas a mob. I investigated and found people hurriedly rolling up their blankets and packing their tupperwares away.
At last, revenge is mine!
That's right picnickers, I thought to myself, this is going to be a concert so you best just get up and scram. We want to the make the most of our tickets and have a crowd here, not just sit on towels, sip tea, and munch biscuits. Also, they're called COOKIES.
Flower's has a really weird voice. I don't think I've ranted about this as much as I ought (as much as I love burger king, for instance). Even when he's just talking, his voice is bizarre. Uniqueness can be a virtue in music, and he can actually sing unlike the majority of "indie rockers." Though he does look like he might be suffering from anorexia.
So. I'd done my homework and was up to speed on how the Killers do their encores. I wanted out of that place quick, but I did want to see and hear the last songs in the encore. I waited outside the gate where I still had a decent view, then dashed when they finished playing When You Were Young.
I think they were Indian, but it was hard to tell. There are also the Malay around here, who are not to be confused with Malaysians. Don't do that. We discussed much of the usual stuff like What in the blazes am I doing here and How do you like Cape Town? These two had a much more interesting and refreshing view on Cape Town, but both were still very positive about the city in spite of its dysfunction.
Second note to self: Avoid driving to concerts. You've been spoiled by going to the Palladium. Driving to big events is awful.
Yet, safely succeeded in reaching the car, and from there I drove back to Cape Town for some much desired sleep. The traffic was likely caught at a bottleneck much closer to the field, for I had no trouble getting back on the highway or riding the N1 back to CT.
...until I accidentally got onto the N7.
I hate the N7.
Friday, December 11
More Final Draw Stuff
While wandering my favorite site for figuring out what is going on in Cape Town, I found a photo gallery and blog post concerning the Final Draw.
...I spotted some incredibly interesting specimens of our “Rainbow Nation”. One man had this monstrous head-gear (see picture) that he managed to keep on his head with either sheer skill or bolts in his skull. I’m going for the bolts. Anyway, it was cool to see that he’d gone through so much effort. There were eggs, flags, pom poms, vuvuzelas and a range of other goodies making up this “hat”, I think I even spied a small child in there. He certainly got the attention he was looking for.
Quite right. Note that this is the same guy I caught on film in the first photo of my own post.
Inspired by this chance reference, I kept looking for other galleries which chronicled the events of the festival. I found a couple more good sources.
...I spotted some incredibly interesting specimens of our “Rainbow Nation”. One man had this monstrous head-gear (see picture) that he managed to keep on his head with either sheer skill or bolts in his skull. I’m going for the bolts. Anyway, it was cool to see that he’d gone through so much effort. There were eggs, flags, pom poms, vuvuzelas and a range of other goodies making up this “hat”, I think I even spied a small child in there. He certainly got the attention he was looking for.
Quite right. Note that this is the same guy I caught on film in the first photo of my own post.
Inspired by this chance reference, I kept looking for other galleries which chronicled the events of the festival. I found a couple more good sources.
Tuesday, December 8
World Cup 2010 Final Draw
Some people (oh you know, a few hundred million) watched the Final Draw for next year's World Cup, which is being held here, in South Africa. I watched it to... sort of. I wasn't one of the lucky few international celebrities and figureheads who sat in the Cape Town International Convention Center (CTICC) where the proper draw took place. However, I was on Long Street, which is where all the real people went for the draw.
It was a Friday, and Fridays can be tiring, but eventually one just learns to buck up and stay up 36 hours if necessary in order to make sure one doesn't miss any of the fun. The Draw had two primary appeals: 1. big party lots of people and mad excitement, 2. some bands (Freshlyground most notably) were going to play for free. I didn't really care about the brackets, though watching other people watch the brackets can be rather enlightening.
So, I grabbed Rainer and we drove into the city center to search for parking. That was fun. We ended up landing a spot in the well-known Bo-Kaap Moslem neighborhood. Pictures the vividly painted Bo-Kaap houses are very often used in tourist paraphernalia promoting Cape Town. I was very much surprised to find the neighborhood four streets away from Long. I was under the impression is was a suburb unto itself, reasonably far out into the reaches.
I was mildly sketched out by parking there, but everyone was parking everywhere and we saw people walking down from much higher up the slope ascending to Table Mountain. This was a special night, and the police were everywhere. If you see police in Cape Town, then I would say you are in a safe place.
The crowds at the entrances and the extremely poor loudspeaker kept us out of the party until we found a back way inside. We arrive about a half hour before the draw business was set to start, so we grabbed some beers from the handy vendors and began to weave closer to the stage at the end of Long Street.
This place was packed, and there were only more people entering the zone. We were later told that more than 120,000 people were in there with us.
Once we had reached a satisfactory position, we settled to enjoy K'Naan's performance. Then the jumbotrons kicked into top gear and we were assaulted with an over dramatic montage of the cup trophy's travels through Africa to reach Cape Town. And then they did some history segments and some introductions and personal stories segments.
Finally, they cut to the CTICC where Johnny Clegg performed a slightly awkward rendition of Scatterlings of Africa. Maybe it was awkward because Mchunu (you know, the black half of Juluka) wasn't there playing alongside Johnny.
Oh well, I was confident Zuma and the FIFA President could somehow improve the show. They chose the smart move and played a recorded video from Nelson Mandela.
Now you see, Mandela is a pretty big deal. Probably the biggest cheers of that entire evening came during Mandela's speech when everyone, white, colored, and black screamed in excitement. "Madiba madiba madiba!" This was one of those times where I dazedly looked around and the full impact of my situation bludgeoned me in the face. I live in Africa. Holy shit.
I have no clue as to how the rest of the continent feels about this, but South Africa very much wants to show off this world cup as being the whole of Africa's world cup. This is, after all, the first cup to be held on this continent, and in South Africa, football is much more the sport of the blacks than the whites (What is? Rugby.)
Then the message ended, and the orange Dutch upstairs went back to tooting their horns and we all went back to yelling expletives at them.
The show continued, featuring more annoying history features and eventually Charlize Theron. For Arrested Development fans: Rita has a pretty strong accent. I'm betting Theron normally has a pretty noticeable accent. At the draw, she sounded as American as I've ever heard her be. Other guests included Ethiopian marathon pimp Haile Gebrselassie and David "Fauxhawk" Beckham. Finally the draw could begin.
I'm not knowledgeable enough to really gain much from the painfully drawn out process of selecting teams and then selecting slots for the aforementioned team. However, the allegiances in the audience were highly variable, and I'll admit that I care for the success of the US team. It still seemed most fitting to alternate between yelling obscenities at Beckham's ridiculously haired head and at the Dutch punks who seemed to gain no end of pleasure from being as loud as possible.
Finally the torment was ended and everyone cheered some more. Freshlyground would be playing soon, at long last. However, both Rainer and I were very hungry, and decided to seek sustenance before the music began.
Unsurprisingly, all the food places were swamped, even my favorite dingy falafel joint. We agreed that the wait was not worth our time, so we wouldn't stick around too long. Plus, more beer would assuredly ease our hunger pangs. We returned to the stage area, yet something felt amiss. No one had started playing during out brief absence, and no one was coming on stage. Freshlyground appeared to be taking their dear sweet time. In the meantime, we got down with it among the natives.
Then some crazy old woman singer came on and started belting antiquarian South African pop jingles at us. The natives certainly seemed to know every last lyric, but they were lost on a German and an American. As far as I could gather, Freshlyground just didn't play, and I missed the announcement. The few fireworks were small consolation.
"Yeah, let's just go."
So we did. We obtained delicious food elsewhere, which was a bit of a task in of itself, but turned out alright in the end. It was quite late by the time we departed, which makes me comfortable in saying that we made the most of such a raucous free event.
So, I grabbed Rainer and we drove into the city center to search for parking. That was fun. We ended up landing a spot in the well-known Bo-Kaap Moslem neighborhood. Pictures the vividly painted Bo-Kaap houses are very often used in tourist paraphernalia promoting Cape Town. I was very much surprised to find the neighborhood four streets away from Long. I was under the impression is was a suburb unto itself, reasonably far out into the reaches.
I was mildly sketched out by parking there, but everyone was parking everywhere and we saw people walking down from much higher up the slope ascending to Table Mountain. This was a special night, and the police were everywhere. If you see police in Cape Town, then I would say you are in a safe place.
Once we had reached a satisfactory position, we settled to enjoy K'Naan's performance. Then the jumbotrons kicked into top gear and we were assaulted with an over dramatic montage of the cup trophy's travels through Africa to reach Cape Town. And then they did some history segments and some introductions and personal stories segments.
Finally, they cut to the CTICC where Johnny Clegg performed a slightly awkward rendition of Scatterlings of Africa. Maybe it was awkward because Mchunu (you know, the black half of Juluka) wasn't there playing alongside Johnny.
Oh well, I was confident Zuma and the FIFA President could somehow improve the show. They chose the smart move and played a recorded video from Nelson Mandela.
I have no clue as to how the rest of the continent feels about this, but South Africa very much wants to show off this world cup as being the whole of Africa's world cup. This is, after all, the first cup to be held on this continent, and in South Africa, football is much more the sport of the blacks than the whites (What is? Rugby.)
Then the message ended, and the orange Dutch upstairs went back to tooting their horns and we all went back to yelling expletives at them.
I'm not knowledgeable enough to really gain much from the painfully drawn out process of selecting teams and then selecting slots for the aforementioned team. However, the allegiances in the audience were highly variable, and I'll admit that I care for the success of the US team. It still seemed most fitting to alternate between yelling obscenities at Beckham's ridiculously haired head and at the Dutch punks who seemed to gain no end of pleasure from being as loud as possible.
Finally the torment was ended and everyone cheered some more. Freshlyground would be playing soon, at long last. However, both Rainer and I were very hungry, and decided to seek sustenance before the music began.
Unsurprisingly, all the food places were swamped, even my favorite dingy falafel joint. We agreed that the wait was not worth our time, so we wouldn't stick around too long. Plus, more beer would assuredly ease our hunger pangs. We returned to the stage area, yet something felt amiss. No one had started playing during out brief absence, and no one was coming on stage. Freshlyground appeared to be taking their dear sweet time. In the meantime, we got down with it among the natives.
So we did. We obtained delicious food elsewhere, which was a bit of a task in of itself, but turned out alright in the end. It was quite late by the time we departed, which makes me comfortable in saying that we made the most of such a raucous free event.
Friday, December 4
One of the many advantages of globalization
One day I was driving through the southern suburbs on a roundabout route back to my house and I happened to roll past a very salient stimuli situated just outside my passenger side window.
After parking in the most dysfunctional single level lot in the world, I walked around the corner to behold the wonder I had... well, already beheld.
It makes sense to sell your electricity in advance rather than billing later if you're afraid half of your customers are going to pick up and scatter in order to avoid paying their bills. Apparently very few of them pay rent, too.
After pausing to snap the above photo, I entered. Alack! There were no toquitos or twix bars so I had to make due with buying a fifty cent (R3.50) "fresh" chicken samosa. Much better than a toquito, though somehow lacking in that stale grease flavor they have going on.
Upon leaving the establishment, I saluted in proper fashion.
Of course, what truly makes 7-11's special are their unintuitive trading hours. I don't know what they are for this particular establishment, but the nice thing about Cape Town, unlike Boston, is that restaurants and bars stay open late. So if I'm really desperate for some food at 3AM I have the option of getting an American style diner burger nearby, or a gatsby. Seriously if I can't get a twix at this place then what is the point?
Just to be clear, I haven't seen any legitimate American chains out here... till now. No McDonalds, no Best Western, no Sears, nadda. This is definitely a first.
After parking in the most dysfunctional single level lot in the world, I walked around the corner to behold the wonder I had... well, already beheld.
After pausing to snap the above photo, I entered. Alack! There were no toquitos or twix bars so I had to make due with buying a fifty cent (R3.50) "fresh" chicken samosa. Much better than a toquito, though somehow lacking in that stale grease flavor they have going on.
Upon leaving the establishment, I saluted in proper fashion.
Of course, what truly makes 7-11's special are their unintuitive trading hours. I don't know what they are for this particular establishment, but the nice thing about Cape Town, unlike Boston, is that restaurants and bars stay open late. So if I'm really desperate for some food at 3AM I have the option of getting an American style diner burger nearby, or a gatsby. Seriously if I can't get a twix at this place then what is the point?
Thursday, December 3
World AIDS Day and South Africa
Since I am the type of person whose scientific interest is piqued by watching baboons copulate, it should not come as much of a surprise that I like to read the blogs over at Kinsey Confidential, which is basically the internet gateway to the (in)famous Kinsey Institute. Recently I was scanning the ol' RSS feeds and my eyes immediately saccaded to the title: "South Africa, World AIDS Day, Music, and More."
Most people are aware of the AIDS problem in Africa. The particularly bad version of the problem seen in South Africa is not as widely known. To put it mildly, its damn bad. But, I won't ruin the post for you; have yourself a read. Even I learned a few things, for instance,
...in South Africa, the question of providing condoms in residence halls isn’t a question at all. In fact, condom dispensers, like the one pictured above, can be found throughout university campuses, in the offices of many faculty and administrators, as well as public restrooms throughout the country.
Have I ever used a public restroom in South Africa? I'm not sure I was even aware that they existed! I hope they're better than in Japan...
Most people are aware of the AIDS problem in Africa. The particularly bad version of the problem seen in South Africa is not as widely known. To put it mildly, its damn bad. But, I won't ruin the post for you; have yourself a read. Even I learned a few things, for instance,
...in South Africa, the question of providing condoms in residence halls isn’t a question at all. In fact, condom dispensers, like the one pictured above, can be found throughout university campuses, in the offices of many faculty and administrators, as well as public restrooms throughout the country.
Have I ever used a public restroom in South Africa? I'm not sure I was even aware that they existed! I hope they're better than in Japan...
Wednesday, December 2
Up the Lion's Head
My apologies for the lack of posts. Blame the massive network of satellites connecting South Africa to the rest of the world because its still can't hold a candle to a massive undersea pipe which will be online anytime now they say. I got all manner of photodumps coming at you though.
For starters, I climbed up Lion's Head Peak with Rainer and some South African chums. Our fearless trail guide told us that this hike has both the best view, and also happens to be one of the easiest.
On the way up, we saw some dung beetles. We didn't see any poop, which was a change from the usual daily routine, but also just a bit confusing. I haven't seen dung beetles anywhere else, so why would they choose to congregate near the top of an uninhabited rock? There's just not a lot of defecating going on around there.
We also saw many paragliders. Those guys launch themselves from the side of the peak, at a spot along the trail outfitted for this purpose. I may try it out sometime before I leave. You get to soar around the middle of Cape Town with outrageous views for a half hour or more (without any need for piloting skills thanks to having a trained pilot strapped to your back), which sound like a pretty nice deal, especially when you consider how cheap it is compared to some of the other insane stuff you can do down here.
Although, some poor sap was down below the lift off point, pulling a hundred small cords out of a large bush. Somehow he'd botched the takeoff, which struck me as difficult since the takeoff process basically just consists of jumping once into the air. According to the team leader for the day, he shouldn't feel bad since "everyone of us has been down there before, mate!"
Oh, and so as not to deceive anyone, let it be know that it is called a peak for a reason: its less than 2000 feet tall. And there aren't any real cliffs except for the optional part of the trail where you may choose to climb said cliffs by hoisting yourself up a chain. Fun times!
Then we reached the top, and well, our leader was not lying. This was a good view.
On the way up, I also got to hear all about local politics the antics of African National Congress Youth League president Julius Malema. I will give you the same advice they gave me: check out the vast collection of quotation recorded on his wikipedia page.
And that is all. In the next installment... AIDS.
Monday, November 23
Johnny Clegg at Kirstenbosch
Some may remember passing mentions of the individual known as Johnny Clegg. He plays World Music, particularly, a meld of Zulu traditions with European styles (like Celtic). He's a pretty sweet guy, making good music and pissing off the Apartheid regimes of the 80's by playing interracial music with an interracial band featuring lots of protest songs.
Every summer, the National Botanical Gardens at Kirstenbosch holds a series of sunset concerts. Clegg opened for this year's season. Clegg was the first musical act I was introduced to when I arrived, and I have quickly become a fan. I've been to Kirstenbosch before, and it is a picturesque garden to be sure. However, I've never been for a concert, so I wasn't sure what to expect.
Shit! I hate sit-down-picnic-lawn concerts. I despise them more than life itself.
Please allow me to have a brief bit of your time to expand this hatred into one of my traditional rants. Premise: lawn concerts suck. Why do I think lawn concerts suck? Oh, let me tell you.
Firstly, if you don't realize it is a lawn concert, you also do not realize that everyone gets there early and sets up their huge blankets, propped chairs, and braai, because that's the only way to maximize your ability to be a huge asshole and take up as much prime space as possible. By the time I arrived (an hour before the start) there was not a speck of green grass showing under the blankets.
Secondly, because they've gone to all the trouble noted above, everyone just sits there the whole concert. By the end, people finally got into things and stood up. I think that most of them would have rather been sitting, but enough people were standing and blocking the view that critical mass was achieved and the chain reaction carried them all from there. However, once they began to stand, there was nothing to do but dance awkwardly in place. No pit, no mingling, no sense of... togetherness. This seems sort of important for the style and meaning of Johnny Clegg's music. And sure, I'm a little spoiled from being raised on Flogging Molly concerts.
Thirdly, everyone is a cut-throat about their space. In a pit, people are cut-throat as well, but there is no personal space and everyone knows that. In a pit, its an aggressive type of cut-throat; on the lawn, it is passive-aggressive. Everyone has some agenda or explanation to act unfriendly, whether it be kids or age or just longtime fandom and devotion. They will excuse away everything in the most lighthearted fashions, whereas in a pit, the word choice sounds more like "No, now stop pushing us, asshole."
Luckily for me I have been to enough concerts and understand how to best channel my own rage, so I did fine for myself. I sat myself down by the sidewalk and leaned up against a comfortable post. In exchange for finding a little extra room next to me to fit a kind Italian couple, I was offered a pad to sit on, and a glass of wine. This was my view of the stage:
..and that's all the pictures you get to see because someone involved with this concert forbid us to take pictures of the stage while the band was playing.
Thus far into the post, the setting has unfortunately overshadowed the music. This is because wild condemnation is much more interesting than thoughtful praise. And, that is all I've got for Mr. Clegg, I'm afraid. The music was great. Clegg had a great stage presence during and between songs - maybe all the South Africans knew the gist of his stories, but to an outsider they were quite thrilling and enlightening. I especially liked the strong saxophone element. I don't care what those darn critics say - the 80's got that right.
Anyway, here are some sample videos of the band:
This last clip is from a special concert in rememberance Nelson Mandela's decades long imprisonment on Robben's Island. My own story of the Robben's Island prison is interesting... and I haven't even been there yet! The tale itself ought to wait for that...
So the music was great, and despite being a lawn concert, I think I made the most of it.
Finally, I'd like to note my... numb surprise at the composition of the audience. It was about the same as the Daisies festival. This was interracial fusion music, but it was a bit depressingly white. For me, the most interesting guy in the audience was one of the ushers, a diminutive black fellow, who I could see soundlessly singing along with the lyrics while moving back and forth, directing people and keeping a an eye out.
Sigh.
Every summer, the National Botanical Gardens at Kirstenbosch holds a series of sunset concerts. Clegg opened for this year's season. Clegg was the first musical act I was introduced to when I arrived, and I have quickly become a fan. I've been to Kirstenbosch before, and it is a picturesque garden to be sure. However, I've never been for a concert, so I wasn't sure what to expect.
Please allow me to have a brief bit of your time to expand this hatred into one of my traditional rants. Premise: lawn concerts suck. Why do I think lawn concerts suck? Oh, let me tell you.
Firstly, if you don't realize it is a lawn concert, you also do not realize that everyone gets there early and sets up their huge blankets, propped chairs, and braai, because that's the only way to maximize your ability to be a huge asshole and take up as much prime space as possible. By the time I arrived (an hour before the start) there was not a speck of green grass showing under the blankets.
Secondly, because they've gone to all the trouble noted above, everyone just sits there the whole concert. By the end, people finally got into things and stood up. I think that most of them would have rather been sitting, but enough people were standing and blocking the view that critical mass was achieved and the chain reaction carried them all from there. However, once they began to stand, there was nothing to do but dance awkwardly in place. No pit, no mingling, no sense of... togetherness. This seems sort of important for the style and meaning of Johnny Clegg's music. And sure, I'm a little spoiled from being raised on Flogging Molly concerts.
Thirdly, everyone is a cut-throat about their space. In a pit, people are cut-throat as well, but there is no personal space and everyone knows that. In a pit, its an aggressive type of cut-throat; on the lawn, it is passive-aggressive. Everyone has some agenda or explanation to act unfriendly, whether it be kids or age or just longtime fandom and devotion. They will excuse away everything in the most lighthearted fashions, whereas in a pit, the word choice sounds more like "No, now stop pushing us, asshole."
Luckily for me I have been to enough concerts and understand how to best channel my own rage, so I did fine for myself. I sat myself down by the sidewalk and leaned up against a comfortable post. In exchange for finding a little extra room next to me to fit a kind Italian couple, I was offered a pad to sit on, and a glass of wine. This was my view of the stage:
Thus far into the post, the setting has unfortunately overshadowed the music. This is because wild condemnation is much more interesting than thoughtful praise. And, that is all I've got for Mr. Clegg, I'm afraid. The music was great. Clegg had a great stage presence during and between songs - maybe all the South Africans knew the gist of his stories, but to an outsider they were quite thrilling and enlightening. I especially liked the strong saxophone element. I don't care what those darn critics say - the 80's got that right.
Anyway, here are some sample videos of the band:
This last clip is from a special concert in rememberance Nelson Mandela's decades long imprisonment on Robben's Island. My own story of the Robben's Island prison is interesting... and I haven't even been there yet! The tale itself ought to wait for that...
So the music was great, and despite being a lawn concert, I think I made the most of it.
Finally, I'd like to note my... numb surprise at the composition of the audience. It was about the same as the Daisies festival. This was interracial fusion music, but it was a bit depressingly white. For me, the most interesting guy in the audience was one of the ushers, a diminutive black fellow, who I could see soundlessly singing along with the lyrics while moving back and forth, directing people and keeping a an eye out.
Sigh.
Monday, November 16
The Discovery of a Lifetime
Some time ago, my South African friend, Billie, told me about this sandwich concept called a "Gatsby," which is popular in the Cape Town region and not really anywhere else in the world. The idea is that its a big old sub type sandwich except the bread is wider and its loaded down with french fries on the actual sandwich. First the layer of fries then the meaty substance of choice, cover it with some sauce, and throw some vegetables over all of it. Close the bread over it all and you've got a Gatsby.
I was very excited by the prospect of slobbering over a decadent mass of bread and meat, so Billie and I went off to find a gatsby place on Friday. They aren't so easy to locate, since the sandwich is more the product of the colored and black populations than the whites. Most white South Africans couldn't tell us anything about where to find a place, if they even knew what the sandwich was. "You'd probably have to go to the townships," one girl told us. Uh huh.
However, once we realized we were barking up the wrong tree, it wasn't too hard to find a vendor. I ordered myself a steak gatsby, which apparently means delicious Indian beef curry. It looked like this:
It was really tasty. Though I predictably felt a bit sick afterwards. I've since decided that I am allowed one gatsby per month, tops.
By the way, I am going to find a way to bring this delicacy to the States and start a restaurant chain which will be awesome, of course.
I was very excited by the prospect of slobbering over a decadent mass of bread and meat, so Billie and I went off to find a gatsby place on Friday. They aren't so easy to locate, since the sandwich is more the product of the colored and black populations than the whites. Most white South Africans couldn't tell us anything about where to find a place, if they even knew what the sandwich was. "You'd probably have to go to the townships," one girl told us. Uh huh.
However, once we realized we were barking up the wrong tree, it wasn't too hard to find a vendor. I ordered myself a steak gatsby, which apparently means delicious Indian beef curry. It looked like this:
The photo, of course, does not do justice. A smell is worth a thousand pictures.
Then Billie offered to take pictures of me stuffing the monster into my face.
By the way, I am going to find a way to bring this delicacy to the States and start a restaurant chain which will be awesome, of course.
Wednesday, November 11
The True Meaning of Multi-Ethnic
When the results of a collaborative project between MIT and Stellenbosch studying the population genetics of a unique South African racial group shows up on PubMed, I really have no choice but to give it some attention.
First set of background info: in South Africa, there is a group of people known as "Coloreds" who make up about 9% of the total population, but in Cape Town, Coloreds make up a whopping 48% of the population. They are by far the largest demographic group here - second place goes to Blacks with 31%, and third is won by Whites, with 19%. The Coloreds are the result of hundreds of years of interbreeding between the whites who lived here (mostly Afrikaners), their slaves, and other random Africans who just happened to be hanging around. During Apartheid, the Coloreds were given more rights than the Blacks, but their lives were still made to suck.
So you've got this odd ethnic group which has developed over the past half millennium. I already described which groups historians think contributed to the Colored ethnicity, but it isn't a very satisfactory explanation when one wishes to ask such question as to just how much each progenitor race contributed to the formation of the Colored ethnicity.
Since creating a new race is not a particularly common phenomenon, it is an interesting thing to study. Understanding the genetic breakdown of colored South African DNA would arguably be helpful for understanding their medical conditions. Also, I think its a great case study which will become more and more relevant as mixed race breeding grows.
This was a descriptive study, and I like those because unless they're just flat out wrong (unlikely) they're just observations about how things are that we didn't know yet. All around useful stuff. Now that we know that the main contributors to the Colored race are (very very likely) Europeans, South Asians, Indonesians, and IsiXhosa relatives, one can make use of this information for medical purposes, cultural investigations, further racial foundation analyzes; all kinds of stuff.
Unless the methodology is severely flawed, and I haven't taken the time or obtained the expertise to check, then this is a solid paper.
Thanks to Dienekes over at his own genetics and anthropology blog for the link on this one.
First set of background info: in South Africa, there is a group of people known as "Coloreds" who make up about 9% of the total population, but in Cape Town, Coloreds make up a whopping 48% of the population. They are by far the largest demographic group here - second place goes to Blacks with 31%, and third is won by Whites, with 19%. The Coloreds are the result of hundreds of years of interbreeding between the whites who lived here (mostly Afrikaners), their slaves, and other random Africans who just happened to be hanging around. During Apartheid, the Coloreds were given more rights than the Blacks, but their lives were still made to suck.
So you've got this odd ethnic group which has developed over the past half millennium. I already described which groups historians think contributed to the Colored ethnicity, but it isn't a very satisfactory explanation when one wishes to ask such question as to just how much each progenitor race contributed to the formation of the Colored ethnicity.
Since creating a new race is not a particularly common phenomenon, it is an interesting thing to study. Understanding the genetic breakdown of colored South African DNA would arguably be helpful for understanding their medical conditions. Also, I think its a great case study which will become more and more relevant as mixed race breeding grows.
This was a descriptive study, and I like those because unless they're just flat out wrong (unlikely) they're just observations about how things are that we didn't know yet. All around useful stuff. Now that we know that the main contributors to the Colored race are (very very likely) Europeans, South Asians, Indonesians, and IsiXhosa relatives, one can make use of this information for medical purposes, cultural investigations, further racial foundation analyzes; all kinds of stuff.
Unless the methodology is severely flawed, and I haven't taken the time or obtained the expertise to check, then this is a solid paper.
Thanks to Dienekes over at his own genetics and anthropology blog for the link on this one.
Sunday, November 8
Elephant Stone
I went up to Silvermine National Park so I could hike to the Elephant Eye on Constantiaberg. I took many pictures.
Silvermine is located "way up" in the mountains on the cape where the European plantations never reached, so the native fynbos has survived there. Fynbos is apparently a biome unique to this small region of the world - found nowhere but along the cape.
It isn't too far of a hike (but I don't remember the actual distance since it was in kilometers...) from parking lot across the rocks and slopes of the Silvermine ridge to reach the Elephant's Eye. One has to cross the top of the valley (seen below) just above the tree line. Then, one will reach the lookout.
In my travels thus far, the lookout provided the perfect panoramic view of the Southern Suburbs, winged by the Cape Flats and False Bay.
From the lookout, the Elephant Eye cave is a relatively short walk, though the slopes are sheer and the path is not so wide. Fortunately, one is protected from falling by barbed wire fences. It is as if everyone in South Africa wants to have normal fences but the fence-makers only know how to make barbed wire.
There's nothing particular special about the above picture, but for some reason the perspective looks unnaturally warped to me.
Anyway, that's the eye. Why an elephant you may ask? Well, if you squint and turn your head a bit, it looks more like an elephant. This angle is key, though. It can be seen from several miles around if you know what to look for, but then it just looks like cliff side hole. Here, you can see the dome of the big head and the center rib of rock running past the right edge of the socket, which strongly resembles the start of a trunk.
The inside is really more interesting. Plants surround and fill the small cavern. It doesn't go very far back, unfortunately. Its been a long time since I've gone spelunking in some quality American caverns. I rather miss it.
... and that was the key photo of the trip. Within the cave is a great spot to relax in the comfort of shade and listen to the climax of Fire Upon the Deep.
On the way back, I got a glimpse at the mini-highlands of Silvermine, featuring the reservoir, a popular local Braai site.
It looks like I'll be afforded many opportunities to go hiking in this region in the near future. I've unfortunately forgotten my camera when I've gone to Kirstenbosch and Camps Bay, but I know I'll be returning to these spots, so I'll be sure to properly photograph them then.
Friday, November 6
Extra notice
I recently was checking my statistics and found that my writings has been noticed by a South African bloke who I had the pleasure of seeing perform recently. His name is Warren Robertson, and he is was one of the guys doing stand-up at the Daisies festival. He noticed what I wrote about the comedy parts of the festival, and since I didn't have the presence of mind to mention it in the original post, I'll do it here.
I stopped by to see most of the improv portion which Warren talks about in his own Daisies Festival summary. It was a real pleasure to watch. Now being able to put the name to the face, I can verify that he (and all of them, honestly) was on fire. During the "Famous Last Words" segment I almost felt bad for the other comics since Warren was nailing the lines one after another. Great stuff.
I think I'll diverge onto a tangent, briefly. To me, improv (if it really isn't planned like they say...) seems to be one of the most impressive forms of comedy. I have seen some amazing improv shows and when they go well, I can't help but be amazed. This is a big reason why I kept coming back for more of Roadkill Buffet but not so much Plush Daddy Fly.
Anyway, Comedia put on just such a stellar improv show at Daisies. Kudos to Warren and the rest. I hope I'll get a chance to catch one of his shows the next time he comes down to the Cape. But enough gushing.
Related links:
I stopped by to see most of the improv portion which Warren talks about in his own Daisies Festival summary. It was a real pleasure to watch. Now being able to put the name to the face, I can verify that he (and all of them, honestly) was on fire. During the "Famous Last Words" segment I almost felt bad for the other comics since Warren was nailing the lines one after another. Great stuff.
I think I'll diverge onto a tangent, briefly. To me, improv (if it really isn't planned like they say...) seems to be one of the most impressive forms of comedy. I have seen some amazing improv shows and when they go well, I can't help but be amazed. This is a big reason why I kept coming back for more of Roadkill Buffet but not so much Plush Daddy Fly.
Anyway, Comedia put on just such a stellar improv show at Daisies. Kudos to Warren and the rest. I hope I'll get a chance to catch one of his shows the next time he comes down to the Cape. But enough gushing.
Related links:
Thursday, November 5
Field Report
I found this at the local market the other day. No way I could not buy it. The question is if I can ever bring myself so eat it. The package at least is must-save material. I spoke to one South African acquaintance about it, but I was left with a particular nagging question.
Is the sauce made from monkey or is it made to be used on monkey?
Sorry about the continued lack of updates and fixes - life is keeping things very busy. That just means there will be more and better material when I am afforded the opportunity to write it.
Monday, November 2
Revamping
Firstly, I've added a disclaimer to the top of the sidebar. Please read it.
Secondly, I've been somewhat unsatisfied with structure and photos in many of the posts, so I'm looking at better ways to do my thing. In the meantime, I've removed some stuff for revamping so you guys don't have to see me mucking about trying out new things. Rest assured, the content will return, and continue.
And welcome to any new visitors! I hope you enjoy my writings.
Secondly, I've been somewhat unsatisfied with structure and photos in many of the posts, so I'm looking at better ways to do my thing. In the meantime, I've removed some stuff for revamping so you guys don't have to see me mucking about trying out new things. Rest assured, the content will return, and continue.
And welcome to any new visitors! I hope you enjoy my writings.
Friday, October 30
Walk on the Wild Side
Perhaps you readers remember that thing I said about it being very rare for one to ever see two baboon troops come into direct contact because of how good they are at avoiding each other.
Turns out I was dead wrong about part of that statement.
Having not accomplished jack this week thanks to the baboons being all out of place, I wanted to go out and do something. Just finding one of our missing troops would be satisfying enough. Tina and I thus decided to go look for them off in the boondocks of the left side (don't tell me it doesn't make sense - that's just what we call it) of the mountain. We had no GPS readings or anything else to go by except our ears and knowledge of where the had been the previous few days.
Our main troop was up the mountain yesterday, but not today. We drove back out and headed up to the second troop's usual spot. We asked mountain bikers for any tips as we usually do, though no one came through today. None were seen on this road. Our last ditch effort was to go up to the high road and see what we could find.
"Look! Baboons!" Tina shouted and pointed directly ahead. I hit the brake and the car ground to an abrupt halt on the dirt road, narrowly avoiding the murder of three juveniles. We hopped out for a quick inspection. After spotting a few key characters like Mortimer, Bruno, and Eva, we identified them as troop-number-two. At last!
We unpacked our stuff so we could follow them. This plan did not last long. A wahoo echoed into the forest, originating nearby. And I heard a reply from further down the mountain. Tina and I looked at each other. Neither of us was going to get real data out of this day. We both knew the other wanted to find out what was happening down there.
We followed some of the young adult males down the hill, eventually passing them when they halted. They were a bit agitated - actually the whole troop seemed more vocal and excited than usual. We crossed the lower road we had already gone through, and kept moving into the bushes.
We found our main troop. Well, we found half of them. The juveniles and sub-adults were all there, mucking about, grunting, and acting just as agitated. Bertrand, Chester, and Damian, the other three adult males, were all there, too. Only two or three adult females could be seen.
We were both quite happy to have found these guys. They were still way too high up on the mountain, and far out of their home range, but it was closer to their usual territory than in the previous few days. I felt somewhat relaxed, so I went across the road into the bushes have a celebratory pee.
As I am doing this, a wild cacophony erupts behind me. I turn around mid-stream and see a pack of sub-adult males from troop 2 charging down the hill towards the road where all the troop 1 juveniles and sub-adults are sitting. Shit was starting real fast. As soon as I finish my piss, I turn around and dash after them, fumbling with my pants and zipper, which I manage to get closed just before I jump into the thicket of dead branches and needles after the males.
Screams and wahoos are everywhere in there, males are chasing each other up and down trees, and around frightened children. The whole place is a huge mess and I can't begin to follow everything that's happening. But I know I am witnessing a rare event. The larger defensive force of Tr.1 eventually pushes back Tr.2, out of the thicket. They take up spots in the trees nearby, and the wahooing continues. I didn't think sub-adults could wahoo. Boy was I wrong.
Tr.1 eventually pushed Tr.2 back further, a ways up the mountain. The two sub-adult forces sat there for quite some time, me sitting in the neutral zone between them, watching. The wahooing had ended, and the groups had settled down to just staring daggers at each other, a mere 20 meters between them.
This seemed to be going on forever, so I went to find Tina to see what she'd learned. She pointed out that the females were nowhere to be found, but there were still fainter wahoos coming from down the hill. We both wanted to know more.
Down through the forest, we saw a large male running around, chasing some other baboons occasionally, and even more occasionally giving a wahoo. When we reached the next road down, we saw it was Aaron, alpha king of the troop. And he had herded all the females this way, far from the site of battle. We found almost all of our missing females down there, and Aaron was being more forceful in pushing them around than we'd ever seen. He had a reputation as being a calm and "sweet" baboon, in spite of being the alpha.
It was tense down there, as one would expect from a dozen females who were being pushed away from everyone else in the troop by a single massive male. It was simmering down, though. I had seen the end of the conflict, now it was just a matter of tensions subsiding. We weren't going to wait, though. It was rather late by this point, and we'd found three of four troops in a single day with minimal advanced info.
Right now I'd like to bow to science, and give a brief description of the model which is usually (and was) obeyed during these troop-to-troop engagements. The groups get divided into two factions during these encounters: the leader males with the females, and the sub-adults and juveniles.
The sub-adults and juveniles are an excitable bunch as always, and they tend to itch for fights and new things. The cape baboons are definitely what we call neophilic. Also, the young males (of which there are many), will eventually need to emigrate from their troops, and they don't have a lot of choice. They frequently use these instances to get information about opposing females, if possible. Plus, if they're really lucky, during one of their incursions they'll be able to copulate with a female.
Which is why the alpha and most females stay very far away. The females don't care much, but the alpha doesn't want anyone getting near his females. Just as Aaron did, the alpha will herd the females away from the opposing troop, quite a distance sometimes, in order to protect them for his own good.
In the end, the troops go their own ways and it doesn't happen again for a very long time. (Un)fortunately, we're not dealing with chimpanzee warfare here in Cape Town.
Turns out I was dead wrong about part of that statement.
Having not accomplished jack this week thanks to the baboons being all out of place, I wanted to go out and do something. Just finding one of our missing troops would be satisfying enough. Tina and I thus decided to go look for them off in the boondocks of the left side (don't tell me it doesn't make sense - that's just what we call it) of the mountain. We had no GPS readings or anything else to go by except our ears and knowledge of where the had been the previous few days.
Our main troop was up the mountain yesterday, but not today. We drove back out and headed up to the second troop's usual spot. We asked mountain bikers for any tips as we usually do, though no one came through today. None were seen on this road. Our last ditch effort was to go up to the high road and see what we could find.
"Look! Baboons!" Tina shouted and pointed directly ahead. I hit the brake and the car ground to an abrupt halt on the dirt road, narrowly avoiding the murder of three juveniles. We hopped out for a quick inspection. After spotting a few key characters like Mortimer, Bruno, and Eva, we identified them as troop-number-two. At last!
We unpacked our stuff so we could follow them. This plan did not last long. A wahoo echoed into the forest, originating nearby. And I heard a reply from further down the mountain. Tina and I looked at each other. Neither of us was going to get real data out of this day. We both knew the other wanted to find out what was happening down there.
We followed some of the young adult males down the hill, eventually passing them when they halted. They were a bit agitated - actually the whole troop seemed more vocal and excited than usual. We crossed the lower road we had already gone through, and kept moving into the bushes.
We found our main troop. Well, we found half of them. The juveniles and sub-adults were all there, mucking about, grunting, and acting just as agitated. Bertrand, Chester, and Damian, the other three adult males, were all there, too. Only two or three adult females could be seen.
We were both quite happy to have found these guys. They were still way too high up on the mountain, and far out of their home range, but it was closer to their usual territory than in the previous few days. I felt somewhat relaxed, so I went across the road into the bushes have a celebratory pee.
As I am doing this, a wild cacophony erupts behind me. I turn around mid-stream and see a pack of sub-adult males from troop 2 charging down the hill towards the road where all the troop 1 juveniles and sub-adults are sitting. Shit was starting real fast. As soon as I finish my piss, I turn around and dash after them, fumbling with my pants and zipper, which I manage to get closed just before I jump into the thicket of dead branches and needles after the males.
Screams and wahoos are everywhere in there, males are chasing each other up and down trees, and around frightened children. The whole place is a huge mess and I can't begin to follow everything that's happening. But I know I am witnessing a rare event. The larger defensive force of Tr.1 eventually pushes back Tr.2, out of the thicket. They take up spots in the trees nearby, and the wahooing continues. I didn't think sub-adults could wahoo. Boy was I wrong.
Tr.1 eventually pushed Tr.2 back further, a ways up the mountain. The two sub-adult forces sat there for quite some time, me sitting in the neutral zone between them, watching. The wahooing had ended, and the groups had settled down to just staring daggers at each other, a mere 20 meters between them.
This seemed to be going on forever, so I went to find Tina to see what she'd learned. She pointed out that the females were nowhere to be found, but there were still fainter wahoos coming from down the hill. We both wanted to know more.
Down through the forest, we saw a large male running around, chasing some other baboons occasionally, and even more occasionally giving a wahoo. When we reached the next road down, we saw it was Aaron, alpha king of the troop. And he had herded all the females this way, far from the site of battle. We found almost all of our missing females down there, and Aaron was being more forceful in pushing them around than we'd ever seen. He had a reputation as being a calm and "sweet" baboon, in spite of being the alpha.
It was tense down there, as one would expect from a dozen females who were being pushed away from everyone else in the troop by a single massive male. It was simmering down, though. I had seen the end of the conflict, now it was just a matter of tensions subsiding. We weren't going to wait, though. It was rather late by this point, and we'd found three of four troops in a single day with minimal advanced info.
Right now I'd like to bow to science, and give a brief description of the model which is usually (and was) obeyed during these troop-to-troop engagements. The groups get divided into two factions during these encounters: the leader males with the females, and the sub-adults and juveniles.
The sub-adults and juveniles are an excitable bunch as always, and they tend to itch for fights and new things. The cape baboons are definitely what we call neophilic. Also, the young males (of which there are many), will eventually need to emigrate from their troops, and they don't have a lot of choice. They frequently use these instances to get information about opposing females, if possible. Plus, if they're really lucky, during one of their incursions they'll be able to copulate with a female.
Which is why the alpha and most females stay very far away. The females don't care much, but the alpha doesn't want anyone getting near his females. Just as Aaron did, the alpha will herd the females away from the opposing troop, quite a distance sometimes, in order to protect them for his own good.
In the end, the troops go their own ways and it doesn't happen again for a very long time. (Un)fortunately, we're not dealing with chimpanzee warfare here in Cape Town.
Wednesday, October 28
Don't Let This Happen To You
A few days ago, we were up on the mountain with the troop, and followed them into the upper vineyards. This is a common place for them to forage. They don't care for the vines much, but the fallow fields nearby are perfect for them since they are filled with a wild, barley-esque grain.
The group was on edge this day, since the second troop had been spotted a few hills away. There was nothing for our troop to do but avoid them, but certain thresholds had been lowered...
Alia has been acting a bit off-color lately, probably because she is pissed that her baby died. Today, she decided to blow off some steam in the vineyards.
Alia lashed out at one of the juvenile females. We don't know why. Maybe it was a fluke, maybe she had a smaller altercation with the juvenile's mother earlier in the day and decided to take it out on the child. However, Alia is not a high ranking female, so her chasing and swatting at a higher ranked juvenile made a lot of the females unhappy.
The chase quickly changed shape, and Alia became the target of the rage of almost a dozen baboons. She screamed and ran, while the others screamed and followed. All the while, I stood in one of the vine rows with my supervisor, quietly observing and recording. Then, the chase halted, and Alia was left surrounded by the opposing force of baboons. She grunted threateningly at them, and they responded in kind.
Then, Alia turned her gaze up, towards me. I was standing a dozen meters behind the arc of baboons threatening Alia. She threat-grunted in my direction, and raised her eyebrows repeatedly, a clear aggressive gesture.
Instantaneously, the other baboons wheeled about, threat-grunted, and raised their eyebrows in my direction.I froze. I had no idea what happened; if I was their target. Bottom line was that a dozen angry baboons staring at me with murderous intent.
This is a classic Oh Shit moment in zoology. Pissing off a male is easy to fix. You back down immediately and show you are submissive. Male fights are dangerous and costly - they won't fight you if you show them they've already won. Mothers are a different story. When you're surrounded by a horde of them, it is usually very unclear why they feel threatened by you. One cannot say what the smart move is. A dozen angry baboon females can bring on far more hurt than a lone, lumbering male.
So I froze in fear. The seconds crawled by, and after... (probably) 3 seconds, the females returned to screaming and barking and all dispersed throughout the field.
Maybe they were threatening me, maybe they were not, maybe I did something to scare them off or maybe they realized their mistake and the silliness of their actions. No one can know the mind of an angry mob, whether it be human or baboon. I prefer to just be thankful.
The group was on edge this day, since the second troop had been spotted a few hills away. There was nothing for our troop to do but avoid them, but certain thresholds had been lowered...
Alia has been acting a bit off-color lately, probably because she is pissed that her baby died. Today, she decided to blow off some steam in the vineyards.
Alia lashed out at one of the juvenile females. We don't know why. Maybe it was a fluke, maybe she had a smaller altercation with the juvenile's mother earlier in the day and decided to take it out on the child. However, Alia is not a high ranking female, so her chasing and swatting at a higher ranked juvenile made a lot of the females unhappy.
The chase quickly changed shape, and Alia became the target of the rage of almost a dozen baboons. She screamed and ran, while the others screamed and followed. All the while, I stood in one of the vine rows with my supervisor, quietly observing and recording. Then, the chase halted, and Alia was left surrounded by the opposing force of baboons. She grunted threateningly at them, and they responded in kind.
Then, Alia turned her gaze up, towards me. I was standing a dozen meters behind the arc of baboons threatening Alia. She threat-grunted in my direction, and raised her eyebrows repeatedly, a clear aggressive gesture.
Instantaneously, the other baboons wheeled about, threat-grunted, and raised their eyebrows in my direction.I froze. I had no idea what happened; if I was their target. Bottom line was that a dozen angry baboons staring at me with murderous intent.
This is a classic Oh Shit moment in zoology. Pissing off a male is easy to fix. You back down immediately and show you are submissive. Male fights are dangerous and costly - they won't fight you if you show them they've already won. Mothers are a different story. When you're surrounded by a horde of them, it is usually very unclear why they feel threatened by you. One cannot say what the smart move is. A dozen angry baboon females can bring on far more hurt than a lone, lumbering male.
So I froze in fear. The seconds crawled by, and after... (probably) 3 seconds, the females returned to screaming and barking and all dispersed throughout the field.
Maybe they were threatening me, maybe they were not, maybe I did something to scare them off or maybe they realized their mistake and the silliness of their actions. No one can know the mind of an angry mob, whether it be human or baboon. I prefer to just be thankful.
Friday, October 23
Birthday
We had a pleasant surprise waiting for us in the field on Monday. Well, several, actually. Firstly, despite finding "our troop" during the search the previous night, it turned out that it was an entirely different troop. We know little about them except they're small, quiet, and show up out of thin air to get in the way when you want to collect data. Their big old male was throwing a huge male fit where the adults all chased each other around while shouting and jumping.
I was following around a female I thought to be Punzle since she had a young baby who would be the target of many grunts. However, the child looked different to me. Was it just the natural process of getting older and the fur changing colors?
Quite the opposite actually. The child had become younger.
This was a true newborn baboon, a "blackie" as we call them. As one would expect, the name derives from the extreme darkness of their hair, which fades with age. Wendy had given birth sometime over the weekend and we were the first humans to see her new child. There will be a great amount of grunting in the troop with the newborn around.
The rest of the day passed as usual, and it was only when we wished to leave that an obstacle threw itself in our path.
I've mentioned Rickey before. He's a sub-adult male, probably between 6 and 7 years old. Every troop has one like him: a sub-adult who invariably has an attitude problem.
We're headed back to the car so we can go home, and there are a few juvenile males sitting on the roof. They dash away as we open the doors and start doing our thing. This is normal behavior.
However, Rickey has to one-up his little cousins, so he prances over to the car and climbs on top, refusing to move. We quickly shut the doors and step back, not sure what to do. Somehow we have to get rid of him, but will he get physically aggressive? Its unlikely, but still a considerable risk if he does get angry. Rickey uses our moments of hesitation to let loose hot piss all over the roof of the car. Truly, this is our glory.
Tina mentions some things about "testosterone" at which point, tired of waiting and sick of Freddie's antics, I say "I'll take care of it," and approach the car, key in hand. I carefully unlock the automobile, occasionally glancing at Rickey, who's head is drooped over the roof a few feet from me. No aggressive expressions from either of us. I open the door, climb in, and shut it with more than the usual force.
Rickey remains immobile. He'll never know what hit him. There are several ways to do this, and at this point, I am safe and it all just becomes enjoyable from my end. I shift into reverse before starting the car, then quickly turn the key in the ignition and pull out of the parking slot.
The combination of engine noise and sudden backwards motion sends Freddie scrambling for stable earth. We all have a good laugh, though are sobered somewhat when we remember that the back left portion of the car is covered in baboon urine. Poop and pee makes our work feel more legitimate sometimes, and it certainly gives one's car the real African feel. Real African smell, too.
I was following around a female I thought to be Punzle since she had a young baby who would be the target of many grunts. However, the child looked different to me. Was it just the natural process of getting older and the fur changing colors?
This was a true newborn baboon, a "blackie" as we call them. As one would expect, the name derives from the extreme darkness of their hair, which fades with age. Wendy had given birth sometime over the weekend and we were the first humans to see her new child. There will be a great amount of grunting in the troop with the newborn around.
I've mentioned Rickey before. He's a sub-adult male, probably between 6 and 7 years old. Every troop has one like him: a sub-adult who invariably has an attitude problem.
We're headed back to the car so we can go home, and there are a few juvenile males sitting on the roof. They dash away as we open the doors and start doing our thing. This is normal behavior.
Tina mentions some things about "testosterone" at which point, tired of waiting and sick of Freddie's antics, I say "I'll take care of it," and approach the car, key in hand. I carefully unlock the automobile, occasionally glancing at Rickey, who's head is drooped over the roof a few feet from me. No aggressive expressions from either of us. I open the door, climb in, and shut it with more than the usual force.
Rickey remains immobile. He'll never know what hit him. There are several ways to do this, and at this point, I am safe and it all just becomes enjoyable from my end. I shift into reverse before starting the car, then quickly turn the key in the ignition and pull out of the parking slot.
The combination of engine noise and sudden backwards motion sends Freddie scrambling for stable earth. We all have a good laugh, though are sobered somewhat when we remember that the back left portion of the car is covered in baboon urine. Poop and pee makes our work feel more legitimate sometimes, and it certainly gives one's car the real African feel. Real African smell, too.
Tuesday, October 20
Excitement!
What a day. It wasn't looking hot to begin with, though the heat of the sun built up substantially, and we had to get up extra early to seek out the troop, which had "wandered" up the side of the mountain. We succeeded in finding them, and as we followed, the events of the day made this day perhaps the most exciting I've seen so far.
First, an update on the dead baby situation. Alia seemed to have returned to normal, no false-wahoo'ing, less overt breast swelling. She might not be on good terms with some folks though, but more on that later. Unfortunately, Matilda (one of the pregnant females) gave birth over the weekend, but her baby also died. She was carrying the decaying corpse around today, though she did not appear to be as stricken as Alia had been. We believe the cause of death was probably something related to the birth, as we saw no signs of violence on the corpse.
Early in the day, tensions were high among the troop. The team has consistently remarked that the troop is a more aggressive troop than others we've seen around in various parts of the world, including right here, and the death of two infants wasn't lessening any of the strain. The big impact today was the presence of the second troop, who we could not see at first, but could definitely hear. Many wahoo's carried over the woods to our location. Aaron (alpha) and Bertrand (older adult male) responded with their own wahoo's on occasion.
Once the troop was finished with its extended sunbathing session, they walked into the woods, doubtlessly headed toward the vineyards. In the woods, the air became literally hazy with all the pine pollen being released. Hopefully this means my allergic reactions will diminish soon, as the pollen is expended. The other troop's wahoo's were heard by our troop from the edge of the woods, and from this point forward, events became a bit unclear.
Aaron became quite incensed, and began aggressively chasing one of the females. This might have been displacement aggression brought on by the other troop. Adult baboons moving at full speed are very difficult to follow, much less meticulously observe, but from what I saw, the whole troop went into a bit of a frenzy at the sight of this seemingly unprovoked aggression. When I saw Aaron a few seconds later, two females were chasing him. I followed them deeper into the forest, where Aaron was wahoo'ing at a female (I'm guessing the same one), both of them slowly climbing up the same tree.
At this point, Bertrand steps into the picture. Aaron is wahoo'ing his head off, and Bertrand is just slowly approaching, from behind me. He grunted like he would to an infant as a sign of affection. I stepped out of his way and he stopped at the foot of the tree and continued his grunting. Aaron advanced on the female through the branches. I noticed she was caring an infant, probably about a year old, and both were screaming at high pitches at Aaron.
Aaron closed within striking distance, and took a swipe at the female. Bertrand exploded. His eyes lit up and his massive old frame rocketed up the tree at Aaron. The two wahoo'd and roared at each other as they exchanged swipes. Bertrand drove Aaron up the tree until he had nowhere to go, at which point the younger adult leapt to the next tree over. Bertrand continued to threaten him, but gradually worked his way down the tree with the female and child, and went away with them into the forest undergrowth. Aaron remained in his tree for some time.
All the while, I stood there and watched the entire scene unfold. It was pretty sweet. My supervisor couldn't help but remark on the massive grin drawn across my face when I returned to report on my findings.
We talked about the event for a while. None of us could explain why exactly Aaron went apeshit. Maybe it was displacement aggression since Aaron was too far from the other troop to battle with their males, but was put on edge by the constant wahoo'ing. However, the female's child was almost certainly one of Bertrand's little entourage. There would be no reason for him to go to such lengths to defend the female and child from the alpha male unless he believed the child to be of his blood. I asked about Bertrand's grunting, which might have seemed out of place. It is most likely that Bertrand wanted to calm the situation, make everyone, Aaron and spectators alike, cool down. This is one of the major documented uses of grunts among baboons. Usually it is quite effective...
So, I had finally seen some real male aggression, up close and personal. And I saw my preferred male come out ahead. Not bad at all.
The troop continued through the woods to the vineyard, where they foraged for some time. We actually saw troop 2 several vinefields away, but a full on altercation between the groups didn't occur. Such encounters are very very rare, and I'll probably not see one before my time here is up. Today's antics were more than satisfactory to sate my desire to witness action.
What a weird day.
I keep having to push back all these entries I've been brainstorming (some since before I arrived) but when things like this happen, a lot of events get superseded. It also explains a lot of why my estimated ideal posting rate of "twice a week" has jumped to "about every other day." And even now I'm still accruing more content that I've got time to distill. I hope you like text? (I've got a lot more pictures too...)
First, an update on the dead baby situation. Alia seemed to have returned to normal, no false-wahoo'ing, less overt breast swelling. She might not be on good terms with some folks though, but more on that later. Unfortunately, Matilda (one of the pregnant females) gave birth over the weekend, but her baby also died. She was carrying the decaying corpse around today, though she did not appear to be as stricken as Alia had been. We believe the cause of death was probably something related to the birth, as we saw no signs of violence on the corpse.
Early in the day, tensions were high among the troop. The team has consistently remarked that the troop is a more aggressive troop than others we've seen around in various parts of the world, including right here, and the death of two infants wasn't lessening any of the strain. The big impact today was the presence of the second troop, who we could not see at first, but could definitely hear. Many wahoo's carried over the woods to our location. Aaron (alpha) and Bertrand (older adult male) responded with their own wahoo's on occasion.
Once the troop was finished with its extended sunbathing session, they walked into the woods, doubtlessly headed toward the vineyards. In the woods, the air became literally hazy with all the pine pollen being released. Hopefully this means my allergic reactions will diminish soon, as the pollen is expended. The other troop's wahoo's were heard by our troop from the edge of the woods, and from this point forward, events became a bit unclear.
Aaron became quite incensed, and began aggressively chasing one of the females. This might have been displacement aggression brought on by the other troop. Adult baboons moving at full speed are very difficult to follow, much less meticulously observe, but from what I saw, the whole troop went into a bit of a frenzy at the sight of this seemingly unprovoked aggression. When I saw Aaron a few seconds later, two females were chasing him. I followed them deeper into the forest, where Aaron was wahoo'ing at a female (I'm guessing the same one), both of them slowly climbing up the same tree.
At this point, Bertrand steps into the picture. Aaron is wahoo'ing his head off, and Bertrand is just slowly approaching, from behind me. He grunted like he would to an infant as a sign of affection. I stepped out of his way and he stopped at the foot of the tree and continued his grunting. Aaron advanced on the female through the branches. I noticed she was caring an infant, probably about a year old, and both were screaming at high pitches at Aaron.
Aaron closed within striking distance, and took a swipe at the female. Bertrand exploded. His eyes lit up and his massive old frame rocketed up the tree at Aaron. The two wahoo'd and roared at each other as they exchanged swipes. Bertrand drove Aaron up the tree until he had nowhere to go, at which point the younger adult leapt to the next tree over. Bertrand continued to threaten him, but gradually worked his way down the tree with the female and child, and went away with them into the forest undergrowth. Aaron remained in his tree for some time.
All the while, I stood there and watched the entire scene unfold. It was pretty sweet. My supervisor couldn't help but remark on the massive grin drawn across my face when I returned to report on my findings.
We talked about the event for a while. None of us could explain why exactly Aaron went apeshit. Maybe it was displacement aggression since Aaron was too far from the other troop to battle with their males, but was put on edge by the constant wahoo'ing. However, the female's child was almost certainly one of Bertrand's little entourage. There would be no reason for him to go to such lengths to defend the female and child from the alpha male unless he believed the child to be of his blood. I asked about Bertrand's grunting, which might have seemed out of place. It is most likely that Bertrand wanted to calm the situation, make everyone, Aaron and spectators alike, cool down. This is one of the major documented uses of grunts among baboons. Usually it is quite effective...
So, I had finally seen some real male aggression, up close and personal. And I saw my preferred male come out ahead. Not bad at all.
The troop continued through the woods to the vineyard, where they foraged for some time. We actually saw troop 2 several vinefields away, but a full on altercation between the groups didn't occur. Such encounters are very very rare, and I'll probably not see one before my time here is up. Today's antics were more than satisfactory to sate my desire to witness action.
What a weird day.
I keep having to push back all these entries I've been brainstorming (some since before I arrived) but when things like this happen, a lot of events get superseded. It also explains a lot of why my estimated ideal posting rate of "twice a week" has jumped to "about every other day." And even now I'm still accruing more content that I've got time to distill. I hope you like text? (I've got a lot more pictures too...)
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