Bittersweet in Borneo

 

 

I recently had the most delight­ful and heart­break­ing experi­ence in Borneo .  For one week I photographed the rescued orang­utans who live at the Inter­na­tional Animal Rescue’s center there.  Of the 48 orang­utans housed there most of them are babies, quite possi­bly the cutest babies of any species, anywhere in the world.  Their incred­i­ble and irresistible appear­ance is sadly one of the elements that contributes to their suffer­ing.  Every­one seems to want one as a pet because they are so damn cute .  I can vouch for the fact that seeing these babies stirs an invol­un­tary urge to cuddle and kiss them.  But I refrained and tried to keep a distance as I photographed them.  The truth is that they are wild animals who belong in the jungle with their mothers.  Sadly, all of these babies most likely watched their mothers being murdered by humans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The most common story that is heard from people who hand over these illegal babies is that they were found alone in a village or on a palm oil planta­tion.  This is not the reality.  I know from seeing wild and rehabil­i­tated orang­utans living within national parks that mothers would never allow their babies to wander off.  I have seen dozens of wild mother orang­utans and none ever let their babies venture out of arms reach.  There­fore, to acquire posses­sion of a baby orang­utan the mother must be killed.

The biggest threat to the orang­utans in Borneo is the devas­tat­ing defor­esta­tion and destruc­tion of habitat that is sweep­ing through the island, mostly due to palm oil planta­tions.  As the rainfor­est is removed to make room for the massive palm oil produc­tion the orang­utans are left with no home and nowhere to go.  Workers kill the adult orang­utans found on the planta­tions and keep the babies in hope of selling them as pets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the new babies arrive they are almost always terri­fied of humans.  We are not their family.  In fact, it is at our hands that their families were brutally killed and their homes destroyed.

The saddest part for me was witness­ing how many of the babies were initially scared of me.  Most would hide their faces from me and some would show signs of aggres­sion, raising their arms and throw­ing things at me.  Their fear of me was a heart-breaking reminder of what these poor babies must have gone through to end up here.  The trauma that they have experi­enced so early in life has scarred them, but these orang­utans living at IAR they are the lucky ones.  They have survived and they are being cared for by kind, loving people. They will not spend their lives tied up or in a cage in someone’s backyard.

In my attempt to spread aware­ness through my photog­ra­phy I find myself feeling uneasy.  I confess that spend­ing time around these sweet babies and photograph­ing them was a guilty pleasure.  I loved being around them and watch­ing every cute move that they made but not without the feeling of dread and guilt that comes with knowing that this is not where they belong.  I feel privi­leged to have had the oppor­tu­nity to spend time in their presence but not under these circum­stances.  Even now, as I write this blog and look through my collec­tion of sweet photos I strug­gle with a deep rooted sadness.  Wild animals are not ours to have as pets, to steal their habitat, nor to kill.

 

Our world is an unfair and imper­fect one.  It’s organi­za­tions like Inter­na­tional Animal Rescue that are fight­ing to make it better.  I can only hope that my photog­ra­phy will help in that fight rather than contribute to the urge that we humans seem to have to call every­thing our own.

Please go to Inter­na­tional Animal Rescue’s website to learn more about the plight of orang­utans and IAR’s incred­i­bly hard work to help animals around the world.

 

 

 

 

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