The Fear of Monkeys - The Best E-Zine on the Web for Politically Conscious WritingThe Tufted Gray Langur - Issue Forty-Six
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Vervet Monkey  from Christiano Artuso The Tufted Gray Langur is an Old World monkey who live in India and Sri Lanka; they are partially arboreal, semi-terrestrial and diurnal in habit. Although principally vegetarians, and eat fruits and seeds (such as Nelumbo nucifera seeds), especially drier fibrous fruits, they also eat insects. Evergreen leaves are eaten when others foods are less abundant and bark is only eaten when nothing else is available. Their diet is high in strychnine, so they commonly ingest the gum of the Sterculia urens to counteract the effects. In the Sri Lankan subspecies, their dorsal area gray to brownish gray in color, getting darker with the age. Underneath they are light grayish with short whitish beard and sideburns. The hairs of the crown form a distinct pointed tuft or crest, that meets at a central point, giving them their name. Hands and feet are same color as limbs. Males are larger than females and the average adult weighs 12.8 kg with a head-to-body length of 61.1 cm. The Indian subspecies is somewhat larger bodied than the Sri Lankan which typically weigh between 6.8 and 13.4 kg. Despite its somewhat slighter size there, they are the largest native primate on Sri Lanka. They mainly stay in their territories in troops of about 20 to 50 individuals. Large troops are led by both large male-female combinations, whereas small troops are governed by an alpha male. Females quickly attain their heat and mate with new alpha male, even when they are not ready for the reproduction in the natural estrous cycle. They give birth to a single offspring or rarely twins, after a 6 months of gestation period. After birth, offspring is attach to the mother about 3 months with all the nourishment and other protection. Sub adult males and other males usually spend the time with searching for foods, rivals with neighbouring alpha males, and protecting the troop. Females spend the time with feeding the young, grooming them, and even play with the young. They communicate with many different ways such as barks, grunts, whoops, whistles and howls. The cough like voice is used for giving tension, and whistling for the contact loss with the troop. The tufted gray langur monkey's superior eyesight and ability to sit atop high trees allows it to spot predators such as leopards, black eagles, tigers, dholes, gray wolves, mugger crocodiles, and occasionally the Indian rock python. They will often sit next to herds of the spotted deer and notify them when a predator is approaching. Additionally, they will often drop fruit from tall trees, which the spotted deer will then feed on. In return, the deer's excellent sense of smell allows it to detect predators early on and warn that something may be approaching. They are listed as a "Near Threatened" species, due to decline of populations in recent years. Hunting and habitat destruction also affect for the declining of the species. Some people also fond of eating them in some parts of Sri Lanka. Very few occasions are recorded of being captured for pets. Numerous conservations projects are undertaken in both Sri Lankan and Indian forests and sanctuaries.

   


A Lesson in Cultural Priorities

by

Phyllis Houseman

In the summer of 1962, I traveled to Ecuador as part of a Peace Corps Volunteer group of science and math teachers. First, we trained for two months at the University of Maryland's College Park campus.

Half-way through the course, our small team had the honor of meeting President John Kennedy in the White House Rose Garden. He shook all of our hands and told us how much we were wanted in Ecuador. No one had a premonition of what his future would bring.

Assigned to the Escuela de Excelencia, a secretarial training school in the southern city of Loja, I taught Nutrition and English to three classes of girls. They were the hope of their families to provide the income needed to escape a life of poverty. Home for many of the students was a tar-paper covered shack, with an earthen floor and no running water or electricity.

The school had few resources--the classroom I used had bare adobe walls. And they owned no actual typewriters. The young ladies practiced typing at a long, battered table, drilling on flat, wooden replicas that had keys painted on their surfaces.

Determined to change the barren surroundings, I organized a project to obtain classroom materials from a variety of U.S. companies--many from my hometown of Detroit. The girls composed dozens of personalized letters to the businesses, using the ream of paper, envelopes, and postage I secured from local donors.

One student, Manuela Rodriguez, wrote so movingly I asked her to copy her message into a half-dozen requests.

"Sirs, we have little in our school to help us become excellent secretaries. Not even typewriters. But our mothers let us stay out of the fields and laundries. With your generous aid, we may succeed."

Materials flowed in during the next several months: colorful charts of food groups and nutrition goals went up to brighten the naked walls. We read from an English-language, short story anthology a publisher contributed. There were enough copies so that each girl received her own volume.

The most amazing gift was a microscope with prepared learning slides. The rector immediately locked it away in a display cabinet, never to be used, but always admired by visitors.

No typewriters arrived.

About a year into my stay, I learned the school qualified for a government educational grant. Now they could purchase several real typing machines.

Just before I left for home, the funds showed up, and a committee of various city officials held closed-door meetings on how to best use the money.

The grant the school received was nonspecific. To my gringo mind, using it to get actual typewriters for girls studying to be secretaries was the logical thing to do.

However, orgullo, pride, turned out to be more important to all concerned, except me.

A month later, I stood in the Plaza Central viewing my last Ecuadorian Independence Day parade. Many area schools marched by, carrying streaming flags and banners.

None strutted more proudly than the young ladies of the Escuela de Excelencia. The girls all wore brand new marching uniforms in the school colors of white and baby blue.

I felt a wave of affection for my students, and a sadness that I accomplished so little in my two years with them. The purchase of uniforms instead of the machines was their priority. It was my lesson in cultural values.

For the next day, they would carefully store their outfits to be ready for another ceremony. The girls then would sit down at the table to practice on the painted letters of the old wooden typewriters.


Phyllis Houseman was born in Detroit and received degrees from the University of Michigan and Wayne State University. She served in the Peace Corps, Ecuador, and then taught Biology and Physical Science in Detroit and California schools. In a step into another career, Phyllis has published several novels and short stories. Her Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/author/phyllis_g_houseman

 

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