Monkey Business

I want to tell you a story about monkeys. This story takes place in a country called India.

When I was about your age, I lived with my parents and my brothers and sisters in India.

In that country they have monkeys. The monkeys don’t live in zoos like they do here. They live in the trees—right outside your window.

Maybe I like this story for a personal reason. You see, when I was young, growing up in Burma, my nickname was Meowpew. Meowpew means white monkey.

These monkeys in India can grow quite big. Some stood as tall as my shoulders.

They were strong. They could run and jump from house to house, from tree to tree. Sometimes these monkeys were dangerous.

They didn’t start out that way—but they became dangerous because of how people treated them.Boys would tease them. They’d throw sticks. They’d throw rocks.

The monkeys would get upset—and they’d throw the rocks right back. Sometimes they became so angry that they would sneak up behind you and take a big bite out of your leg.

My father, who was a doctor, had operated on many people who were bitten by monkeys.

One day, a group of monkeys came into the house of our neighbors who lived below us on the ground floor.

The man worked as a hospital pharmacist. His wife was home, and her baby was nearby, lying on the floor.

In India, many things are done on the floor—cooking, eating, sleeping. And their little baby was lying there on the floor.

In came the monkeys—led by the leader, with the others following behind. Among them was a mother monkey who had recently lost her own baby. She was searching for what she had lost.

There on the floor, she saw a baby. It wasn’t a monkey baby. It was a human baby. But she thought she could love it too. She grabbed the baby in her arms and ran out the door.

The mother watched in horror as the monkey jumped onto the fence, then onto the roof, then leapt to the house next door—running with her baby in her arms. She knew if the baby fell, it would not survive. Human babies can’t cling like monkey babies can.

So she prayed.

And then she had an idea.

She ran to the kitchen and grabbed some bananas. Monkeys love bananas.

She went outside and waved them where the monkeys could see. Then she laid the bananas on the ground and hid behind the door, knowing the monkeys wouldn’t come if they saw her.

Soon, they returned. The mother monkey came back, laid the baby gently on the ground, and ran for the bananas.

At that moment, the baby’s mother rushed out, chased the monkeys away, and saved her child.

Those same monkeys came to our house too.

One day my mother walked into the dining room and found five monkeys sitting on the table. In the bedroom, more were sitting on the bed—redecorating, apparently.

Then she remembered my baby brother Stephen, asleep in another room. That was enough.

She grabbed a stick and ran toward the leader monkey. She knew that if the leader left, the others would follow.

The leader monkey wasn’t afraid. Boys had chased him with sticks before. He bared his teeth and growled, stepping closer.

My mother realized this wasn’t working. She tried something different. She bared her teeth. She growled louder than any monkey ever had. She screamed.

The monkey froze—then ran. Every monkey followed him out the window.

After that, we were always careful to close our doors and windows when the monkeys were around.