The importance of a fart joke

Before getting back to work and start studying the benefits of long lasting social bonds in chimpanzees, I want to understand my own behaviour in a social environment. Arriving in a new place, I always find it difficult to choose bonding partners and weigh up costs and benefits of investing in new social contacts. I can engage in small talk, but it bores me to death so I usually stay quiet and observe members of the group for a while. Then pick out my grooming partner later. I am getting good at it as last time someone only noticed me after 2 days being in the same group work.

Female-friends require more investment than males; evaluating how big the competition is they will accept you or not. Fortunately I am already in my 30’s and don’t have the body of a sun tanned model (working on that is a continuous process) so in women’s eyes less likely to run off with their mates. However, bonding with males is much easier. I get along very well with men who are a bit older, slightly taller, know what they want in life and are more up on the hierarchy level. It creates a ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ situation, which is comfortable for both parties and avoids awkward situations. Perfect for short term bonding, before the question ‘shall we have a drink at my place’ comes, you are packing your bags again.

Every human being should have a few special long-lasting friends, to invest in and who invest in you equally. It is vital for your mental health and definitely increases your happiness index. I am lucky to have a few, who I can ask to pull my finger and who smile if I then laugh with my own fart joke.

I am ready to start that PhD now.

Young Couple in the village Malen V (Cameroon, 2013)

Rejected on Valentine’s Day

Those engaged in scientific writing might recognize what I am about to say...

You spent months in the field, digging in the mud, collecting poo samples of gorillas, or puzzling on transmission chains of Ebola patients, with the mourning and crying family next to your investigation tent as another loved one has passed away. Running through the forest, falling in mud holes elephants left for you, or driving hours on a motorbike with a cramp in your left buttocks, all in order to get the data, the information you need to understand the world around you better. And when you think you start to get answers for your question marks, you want to share it with the world, sometimes forgetting that not everyone is as excited as you are about gorilla faeces.

Once you get home, an enormous pile of data awaits you to be analyzed. It will take you weeks – preferably hidden in a wooden cabin, next to a beautiful lake in Canada with the occasional moose or bear strolling by. Because nobody will understand how much time (for God’s sake!) you can spend looking at numbers on a data sheet. I am a disaster in statistics, as a child I didn’t understand the difference between ‘half’ and ‘double’… fortunately, my highly intelligent family accepted me as I am and often appreciate me for my developed social skills. I got over it eventually, but still can’t get my head around what exactly an ANOVA means if I don’t calculate it myself.

By the time you have your paper ready for publication, people have moved on with their life, they’ve travelled, children were born, and careers have been made. You have aged, probably grown a beard, but you are proud of your work! You managed to narrow down months of work to 7 pages maximum, where the discussion concludes that more research is needed.

Three months later, reviewers have done their work and you click hopeful on the email blinking ‘your submission’.

“I am afraid that we have decided to reject your paper”

I hope this friendly moose and bear are still around to keep me some more company.

Male Gelada, or "bleeding-heart monkey", Simian Mountains, Ethiopia - 2015