You want to hear the good news?

In the last week I've spent more time looking at monkey data than actually looking at monkeys. Tegan and I spent 4 out of 5 days cooped up inside sieving through data. I'll be honest, it was mind numbing, physically un-engaging work. But it needed to be done.

On Friday morning we sat down for the final crunch. It was time to put the newly polished data into a neat little software to tell us the population estimates, among other things.

In the data went, there we sat fingers crossed. And that feeling of euphoria didn't come. What came out instead? Gibberish. It took another 4 hours of data grooming before it made sense. And then it came in a flood. (Turns out we'd put the table in the wrong format, and that is why the program was telling us there were over 120 million monkeys in our 177 hectare forest!)

By the end of Friday afternoon we had pretty conclusive numbers for the colobus populations in these forests, comparable by quarter and year. You want to hear the good news? It looks like the colobus numbers here are pretty much stable. Maybe its because we are more likely to see them now with less trees and forest blocking our view, or maybe its because the colobus are adapting, or haven't reached their critical tipping point. Either way, their populations appear stable at a rough 1200 individuals.

Tegan and I shared a small celebration, a high five, but the reality of the numbers still plagues me. That is not that many monkeys. These numbers have been passed onto the Colobus Trust, which will then pass them onto the IUCN, which will change its red-list status. And in the meantime GVI volunteers and staff will continue to trample through the forest, checking canopy cover and human disturbance, with the hope of stumbling across a troop of these thumb-less monkeys.

To celebrate the end of out data days, a good friend and fellow volunteer on the Thailand Elephant project came to visit. Lindsey was in Mombasa visiting "her kids"- two little boys she is paying through school, and took the long bum numbing mutatu drive down to Shimoni. It was lovely to see another fellow traveller. 

On Saturday Tegan, Lindsey and I boarded a tourist dowh (boat) and headed again for the warm waters of Kisite. I sat at the bow of the boat bobbing, feeling the water reach for my ankles as we crested waves. I saw terns fly overhead for the island, yellow beaks telling me they are ready to breed. 

Splash! We were in the water, and as we descended I felt that fancy free feeling wash over me. The first dive was beautiful, we swam along the reef as the tide pulled us. Octopus danced with each other as we kicked past. Toward the end of the dive we came across a beautiful hawksbill turtle. She had a relatively clean shell and a barnacle coated body. As if we weren't there she found a nice part of the reef and started to scratch herself against it, using her fins to push herself this way and that. Her back right fin was half gone, a reminder of the fragility of life in the sea.

We kicked on. Another HUGE female hawkbill was scratching herself too, her shell covered in that green turf algae. We kicked on and ended the dive with the smallest green turtle I've ever seen. He (I have no idea what sex it was) was just beautiful. He was curious but not scared. He circled me as I followed him, sizing me up as friend of foe.

And before I knew it, it was over and I was back in the stratosphere smiling about the turtles we'd seen. The second dive wasn't as eventful, but again the feeling of being surrounded by the sea is enough to quell my worries and calm my soul.

And since then it has rained. And rained. And rained. The rain marked the end of ramadan, the muslim month of fasting, and as you could hear the celebrations over the downpour I learned that its a good omen of starting afresh. Today was the first day back in the forest, and while I stumbled over tree roots looking for birds and colobus, I was happy to be surrounded by trees.

I only have two more days in the forest before returning to Mikwiro island for some construction work, and I intend to soak them up, spot as many birds and count as many monkeys as possible.

The rain didn't wash away my worries, but do you want to hear the good news?

Right now, the monkeys have a home, the birds still sing, the sun still shines and in 4 weeks I'll be home.

You want to hear the good news?