Gorillas and Other Primates

I saw some gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans the other day. I looked into their eyes and, for the millionth time, thought how human-like their eyes are. The way they looked at me and other things were exactly the way humans look at things. Perhaps it should be better described as “humans have learned to look at the world the way gorillas, chimps, and orangutans do.”

I noticed them only because I don’t often go to the grocery store next to the subway station. I usually go to the one at the end of my street, but the one at the subway makes a great in-house lasagna, and I had a hankering.

I trust it’s not species-ist to say it wasn’t surprising to see them in the fruit and veg department. I’m pretty sure they have no need for canned beans, frozen lemonade, potato chips, toilet paper, oregano, or cereal, let alone lasagna.

A couple of the young gorillas picked up some bananas and tomatoes, opened a prepared plastic tub of mixed fruit – cantaloupe, watermelon, mango – and ate them. That wasn’t right; I had to say something to the adults.

But what do you say? What can you say? I wasn’t even thinking about the fact their English might not be very good; after all, none of them came from English-speaking countries. I was more concerned that the patriarch, the 600-pound silverback, might not appreciate my butting in. (I was scared enough by the adult chimpanzees, who, although they’re not that big, are pretty intimidating. [Humans who think they could beat up a 150-pound chimp have no clue; not only are they really strong, muscular, and mean when they want to be, they have no reservations about attacking an enemy with their hard teeth (my co-worker Matt still has a disfigured face from when a chimp took a chunk out of his cheek when Matt challenged him to a fight at an art gallery.)]).

I may have digressed there...

But I sucked it up. I looked the silverback right in the eyes, something I understand humans should never do, but he was in my world, not I in his. Not that that would make any difference.

“Sir,” I said, “the young’uns can’t just eat the food here. You have to pay for it.”

The silverback looked at me the way my grandpa does when I tell him his breath stinks. He rose from all fours to his full height. I was less concerned about his height, about the same as mine, than his width and depth. I felt my knees wobble.

He continued to look at me. I saw in those eyes the connection among all us primates. We’re the same except they’re more civilized.

As the kids continued to rustle the apples (and one of them even attempted to chomp on a rubber band holding broccoli together, but with no success), Dad let out a bellow that stopped all the kids in their tracks. He shuffled down the aisle, picking up bananas and tomatoes and one plastic tub of sweet fruit.

The chimps went to the deli and seemed to be making fun of that. The orangutans left the store and went to the movie next door. I think it was a revival of “The Godfather”; I’ve always known orangutans had good taste.

I followed the gorillas. At the checkout, Daddy Silverback put all the food on the counter, and the cashier rang it in. The gorilla family waited there as Dad then took all the products back to the fruit section.

The other people waiting to have their purchases rung up were annoyed, but really, what are you gonna do when there’s a troop of gorillas waiting in line in front of you?

Dad came back, took out his credit card, and paid. He and his family lumbered out onto the street.

I paid for my lasagna and followed them out. Some people made some offensive comments to them, people who don’t understand we’re all pretty much the same. Let alone primates; all of us. We’re connected. I know a lot of octopi, cuttlefish, springer spaniels, and mushrooms who are a lot smarter than most people I know.

Daddy Silverback made a noise. One of his family stepped up, and punched a couple of humans.

That made me laugh.

They could have killed the humans but chose not to. Obviously because they’re not human.

The humans dispersed. That was weird because normally we turn into an idiot mob in those kinds of situations and do the most stupid things which have resulted in the current world.

Aaahhh...

Dad made another sound, one I hadn’t heard before. The family shuffled down the street. They met up with the chimps, who, as far as I could tell, hadn’t stolen any deli meats.

One of the chimps said, “The orangutans went to see ‘The Godfather’. What a bunch of peasants.” I had to disagree with that, and said so.

Daddy Silverback looked at me. There seemed to be a wink and a smile, but I’m not completely fluent in facial expressions, no matter what species.

He took a banana out of his pocket and handed it to me. He may have winked and smiled again.

I held out the lasagna to him. He took it, turned it over and over, and then seemed to read the cooking instructions and the list of ingredients.

He snorted, handed the lasagna back to me, then led his troop down the street.

I followed and played tag with the little ones until they stopped at the corner. A car pulled up next to them and the silverback reached to open the back door of the uber. The driver took one look at them and drove off. They tried to hail a couple of taxis but they didn’t stop.

Finally a taxi driven by a gibbon stopped for them. They all piled in and the taxi disappeared.

People are still discriminating against each other so prejudice against other primates shouldn’t surprise me but it does. What will happen when further integration is inevitable? I resolved that when I got home, I was going to be especially nice to my new neighbor who had recently emigrated from South America. Alpaca or llama, I wasn’t sure. I will make a point of finding out.

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