Petrified Monkey’s Tail

I remember the moment.

A roaring fire blazed in the grand fireplace at the Samara Manor House as we warmed our hands after a cold game drive, anticipating yet another sumptuous dinner and enjoying the hospitality that was as warm as the regal residence we temporarily called home. Equally comfortable and elegant, there was always something lovely to admire, and the white fireplace mantle with the long, grayish, branch-like art spiraling gracefully across the top was no exception. Reminding me of petrified wood, the art work enhanced the eclectic nature of the room. Oh yes, there was always something beautiful and unusual to appreciate, inside as well as outside, and to wonder about as well.

And I wondered what that stick-like object was.

But Reid knew. “A petrified monkey’s tail,” he told me without hesitation.

With the mountains of the Karoo silhouetted in the background and an infinity pool that sailed on and on, the petrified monkey’s tail perched on the mantle, in addition to the diverse antelope horns and native décor in the home, added to the uniqueness of Samara. I loved it.

And for me, monkeys, regardless of their mischievous and sometimes annoying behavior, are fun to watch. In fact, one monkey made sure we knew who was in charge, dropping evidence outside our door that he had been there first. And then later as we visited the mountain lodge, the remnants of a jubilee feast fit for a monkey queen were evident. Apparently, a monkey had invited herself in and served tea, enjoying, in particular, the many packets of sugar, not an uncommon occurrence at the lodge. And in another tale we were told of one particular monkey who, surprised to find himself trapped in the lodge’s bedroom, took the quickest way out through a plate glass window, apparently unharmed. In a land of antelopes and cheetahs and elephants and giraffes and aardvarks, the grey vervet monkeys with the black faces entertain those who visit their land.

So the petrified monkey’s tail on the fireplace mantle made perfect sense to me.

Only it wasn’t. It wasn’t a petrified monkey’s tail, that is. Nope. But yes, the interesting object on the fireplace mantle was unique, just not petrified. And it wasn’t a tail from a monkey either, even though it now makes a good tale to tell for the distinct object on the mantle was actually the impressive horns from a majestic Greater Kudu. Horns that Reid recognized immediately as belonging to the antelope referred to by many as the “ghost of the bush” because of its ability to blend in with its surroundings. Horns from the invisible-like animal with the white stripes that Ernest Hemingway, obsessed with hunting them, wrote about in The Green Hills of Africa. Spectacular horns that can extend up to 51 inches on average and make three graceful twists while doing so, yet horns that do not impede the animal as he stomps through the bush because he simply lifts up his chin, throw them against his back, and forages on ahead through the dense spekboom and sweet thorn bush.

Horns from a greater kudu, not a tail from a petrified monkey. Gulp.

I remember the moment.

My son and husband shared a hearty laugh over my gullibility, and we’ll all remember the moment, a true Becky Bader moment, ranking up there with the cricket I thought was a wild animal and the carafe I drank out of at the winery and the necklace I wore with the price tag still attached. Like the monkeys, I, too, can provide a lot of comic relief.

And now the Baders have another phrase to add to our invented South African lingo – petrified monkey’s tail – to describe anything so indescribably ridiculous that there are simply no words to do it justice. Whereas caramelized pear is our “ohhhhh wowwww” moment, petrified monkey’s tail is our “ohhhh mannnn” moment. And behind the lingo, the moments become part of the indescribable memories we won’t forget. The breathtaking and the ridiculous.

And by the way, I wasn’t the only one who provided comic relief. On a particularly cold day as the ranger was driving us through the fields to the airstrip, Ian sat on his hot water bottle instead of holding it in his lap and soon discovered his pants were wet right before we boarded the plane to leave. And that tale, too, won’t be forgotten.

Petrified Monkey’s Tail isn’t just for the mama of the family.

For information on Samara’s Vervet Monkey Research, see http://www.samara.co.za/vervet.htm.