Sunday, Sept. 19

We arrived in the Simien Mountains National Park today. Back in the States, I have an office in the psychology department at the University of Pennsylvania. It is located in the Solomon Laboratories building, which was probably built shortly after Ben Franklin founded the university in the late 18th century. I share my office with another graduate student. I have a six-inch-wide office window with a view of one side of the School of Social Work.

Here I have an office on the edge of an escarpment in northern Ethiopia. I share my office with thousands of the most gregarious primates, the gelada. I have no windows in my Ethiopian office. Wildlife photographers rate my office as one of the most beautiful locations in the world. I can’t argue with that.

I spent most of the drive from Gondar to the mountains taking in the passing landscapes. The wet season is ending, and my colleagues have told me that the rains have been less frequent. I have never been in the mountains after the rainy season. It is breathtaking. When the sun peeks through the clouds and the fog lifts, you see endless fields of lush grass speckled with wildflowers of all colors.



As we enter the park I am giddy with excitement. I can’t wait to see the monkeys. It’s been too long and I feel like I’ve missed so much of the soap opera that is gelada life. Who has had a baby? Who died? What groups have new males? What groups split into multiple groups? I have a million questions. I think my colleagues are happy when we pull up to our hut and they are released from my pestering curiosity.

Our hut is the former house of the park warden. It is a circular stone hut, about 30 feet in diameter. There are five rooms in the house, each a triangular slice into the center of our hut. There are three bedrooms, a kitchen/dining room and a lab area. Last year I was exiled to our tent adjacent to the house; this year I am fortunate enough to get a room in the house. Lucky me!

It is colder than I remember. It baffles some of my friends when I tell them that the temperature can approach freezing in my Ethiopian office. “It must be really hot in Africa,” they say. We conduct our research at an altitude exceeding 10,000 feet above sea level, so I packed long underwear and fleece outerwear.

We arrived at our house late in the afternoon, so the monkeys were already heading down to their sleeping cliffs when we drove by. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a small group heading in for the night. I’m sure it was some of our study population, but it was raining and we had a lot of unpacking to do. I’ll have to contain my excitement for one more night. Tonight I celebrate my arrival over some whiskey and local beer with my friends at the campsite. Tomorrow I can celebrate when I see the geladas and recognize some of my office mates.