Naughty Monkey

I was going to make a joke: something like somebody aught to spank that monkey. But I won't.

As I scanned the photos, Peter Gabriel's "Shock the Monkey" came into my head. But the monkey wasn't shocked: I was.

About a half an hour or so north of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, the ancient caves of Batu rise about 100 metres above ground and are accessed by a tiring, 272-step ascent. In the heat of day, wearing light, cotton clothing is a must, and even then you sweat like you've done the workout of your life.

In February of 1999, DW and I took an afternoon break from the downtown bustle of KL and took a bus on a straight road, leading north. I watched as the Petronas twin towers slowly shrank in size but never left the horizon. While we never truly left the urban sprawl, we did feel that we were actually leaving the city.

By the time we reached the base of the Batu Caves and paid our entrance fee, the sunshine over KL was replaced by grey rain clouds. Though they looked menacing, only a few drops fell as we climbed the stairs. The rain wouldn't come until we were sheltered inside the caves.

Though this was a sacred place of worship, photography was allowed. I tried to be respectful as I captured images of the carved structures and the people who attended them. I always asked permission before I pointed the lens toward anybody and always received a nod of approval.

The signs were clear: "Do not feed the monkeys."

DW and I carried no food, and wouldn't have shared it with the natural inhabitants of the cave, though we could see others disrespecting the rules. And though we had nothing to offer as food, it didn't stop the curious creatures.

DW, who was capturing images with her own camera, placed her backback on the ground for a moment. Immediately, one of the monkeys was upon it. He casually walked up and started sniffing. He opened the backpack and retrieved a packet of tissues. It was their scent (it seemed that all tissues in Malaysia were scented) that had attracted him.

We didn't object. We were given the tissues by someone in KL who was begging for money. We didn't pay much for them and weren't attached to them. Our only concern was that the monkey would pull out the tissues and make a mess within the temple areas.

I took a picture of the monkey, seemingly coveting his prize. But then the monkey returned to the backpack to see what other treasures could be found.

DW, who was snapping away at the monkey and me, mentioned that her wallet was in the bag. She didn't want the curious guy to take anything that she couldn't afford to lose. So I reached, slowly, and pulled the backpack towards me.

The monkey looked at me, as though he was saying, "Dude, I was looking through that. How rude you are." And then he pounced.

Tail straight in the air, hands high. Completely startled, I jumped to my feet, backing away from the pack and the monkey, but not before he scratched my hand. He didn't break the skin but it became raised and red.

I stamped my foot on the ground and shouted, "Hey!" Seeing that I was much bigger than him, it was the monkey's turn to back off. I picked up the backpack and the tissue, which the creature had dropped, and moved toward DW.

It was my second mugging in Southeast Asia, but the first one where I really felt in danger.

Naughty monkey. Somebody had really aught to spank that monkey.

Oops... I said it.