There, up in the canopy, a troop of vervet monkeys; always busy, always social. These are some of the most common monkeys in Southern Africa, and yet every time I see them, I feel a connection deeper than biology. The vervet monkey; Chlorocebus pygerythrus; is my totem.
Vervets are fascinating creatures, not just for their clever antics but for their survival strategies. They live in troops of up to 50, often led by dominant males. They’re omnivores, which means they’ll eat fruits, flowers, leaves, seeds, and yes, even insects or small vertebrates if the opportunity arises. They have a gestation period of around five and a half months, and when a baby vervet is born, the entire troop is involved in protecting it. You’ll often see young monkeys learning by mimicking their elders, just as we do.
What’s extraordinary about vervets is their alarm calls. They have distinct calls for different predators; one sound for a snake, another for a leopard, another for an eagle overhead. It’s a sophisticated system; a language of survival embedded in their genes.
For me, the vervet isn’t just fascinating; it’s ancestral. In our culture, totems link us to our ancestors. We respect the animal as we respect family. Two people of the same totem are kin. And we never harm our totem animal; it’s a spiritual respect passed down.
So when I stop a little longer to watch a vervet, it’s not just the guide in me observing; it’s the part of me that knows I’m looking at a symbol of my ancestry, a reminder of where I come from.
Guiding is often about sharing facts. But the bush also gives us these moments, where the scientific and the personal meet. For me, every vervet monkey is a reminder that we are all part of something larger; a family, a history, and a land that teaches us, day by day.
