Can a real, live human being fit through this hole in the wall, which is even smaller than it appears in this photo? Read below and find out!
NEWS FLASH: A Mother Bear (that's me) Saves her Baby Cub in Downtown Jakarta!!
Since I've now been on safari not once, but twice in Jakarta, and having had the experience of seeing real, live animals up close and personal through a fierce and rugged encounter with my luxury, air-conditioned SUV, I now feel completely at ease asserting that I'm pretty much an expert on animal behavior. Even the animals I did not see, I now feel that I know and understand their deepest innate needs and instinctual behaviors. And so, as a self-appointed animal virtuoso based on a fantacised exaggeration about my own expertize, I can assert with confidence and assurance this vast over-genralization about animal behavior: A mother protecting her young is capable of anything!
Okay, well maybe I'm not really an expert (although I know I had you going there for a minute), but I still feel that I can say with authority that there is nothing like the behavior of a mother _________ (insert animal of choice) protecting her young. How do I know this? No, it's not because I studied how animals behave in the wild, or because I rescued my own children from a burning building, or leapt onto some train tracks to save my child from an impending train; rather it's because I risked life and limb to rescue Natasha from a bathroom stall.
Okay, the situation is this. We were at the fancy American Club in Jakarta and Natasha, my 5-year old and I went to the the locker room to go to use the bathroom. Once there, we each went into our own individual stalls. These stalls were enclosed rooms with full doors and cement walls, not the chinsy partial metal walls that allow several feet of clearance above the floor (thus allowing for Elaine's Seinfeld refrain of: "can you spare a square?"). Anyway, back to the perilous story . . . moments later after going to the bathroom, I walked out of my stall to wash my hands and heard Natasha jiggling the door to get out. She pushed and pulled and jiggled the handle back and forth. Then, she stopped and started jiggling again another way, but could not seem to open the door. I could tell from the rapid jiggling sound that she was starting to get nervous. "Just slide the metal bar back to the right," I told her. It was not working. "Just slide the handle to the right." I repeated. Still not working. This went on several more times, each time with me trying to explain what to do using different words, and encouraging her to push the door forward a bit, to help alleviate the strain on the lock. But, it was still not working and Natasha was getting really nervous. "Mooooommy!" she called out. "MOOOOOaaammmmy . . . . I can't get out!" She was scared and now the yelling was getting louder and louder, and the tears were starting to come. "Stay calm" I told her. "I'm right here, Natasha. . . . I'm going to help you get out." But, that didn't seem to help and her cries quickly escalated from a small wimpier into a full blown tear-infused cry of:
Okay, well maybe I'm not really an expert (although I know I had you going there for a minute), but I still feel that I can say with authority that there is nothing like the behavior of a mother _________ (insert animal of choice) protecting her young. How do I know this? No, it's not because I studied how animals behave in the wild, or because I rescued my own children from a burning building, or leapt onto some train tracks to save my child from an impending train; rather it's because I risked life and limb to rescue Natasha from a bathroom stall.
Okay, the situation is this. We were at the fancy American Club in Jakarta and Natasha, my 5-year old and I went to the the locker room to go to use the bathroom. Once there, we each went into our own individual stalls. These stalls were enclosed rooms with full doors and cement walls, not the chinsy partial metal walls that allow several feet of clearance above the floor (thus allowing for Elaine's Seinfeld refrain of: "can you spare a square?"). Anyway, back to the perilous story . . . moments later after going to the bathroom, I walked out of my stall to wash my hands and heard Natasha jiggling the door to get out. She pushed and pulled and jiggled the handle back and forth. Then, she stopped and started jiggling again another way, but could not seem to open the door. I could tell from the rapid jiggling sound that she was starting to get nervous. "Just slide the metal bar back to the right," I told her. It was not working. "Just slide the handle to the right." I repeated. Still not working. This went on several more times, each time with me trying to explain what to do using different words, and encouraging her to push the door forward a bit, to help alleviate the strain on the lock. But, it was still not working and Natasha was getting really nervous. "Mooooommy!" she called out. "MOOOOOaaammmmy . . . . I can't get out!" She was scared and now the yelling was getting louder and louder, and the tears were starting to come. "Stay calm" I told her. "I'm right here, Natasha. . . . I'm going to help you get out." But, that didn't seem to help and her cries quickly escalated from a small wimpier into a full blown tear-infused cry of:
"MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMYYYYY!!!!!!!"
The sound of her tears and her screaming wails for help unlocked something in my brain and I thought off nothing else but saving my crying baby. Not wanting to leave her side, I rejected the idea of running down the hall to get help from the Club owners. What could they do anyway, I thought, without bashing the door in and scaring poor my little baby? I can't leave her now!
So, I fiercely looked around for a way to get into Natasha's bathroom stall and save her from the life-threatening possibility of going seconds without food, water, or maternal care. I went back into the other stall and looked up about 12 feet to discover a small 3' x 1' opening between the two stalls. True, the opening or "window" was 7 feet over my head to start with, and even based on my rusty knowledge of geometry and physics, I was way too big to get my body through that tiny hole. But I was determined.
The sound of her tears and her screaming wails for help unlocked something in my brain and I thought off nothing else but saving my crying baby. Not wanting to leave her side, I rejected the idea of running down the hall to get help from the Club owners. What could they do anyway, I thought, without bashing the door in and scaring poor my little baby? I can't leave her now!
So, I fiercely looked around for a way to get into Natasha's bathroom stall and save her from the life-threatening possibility of going seconds without food, water, or maternal care. I went back into the other stall and looked up about 12 feet to discover a small 3' x 1' opening between the two stalls. True, the opening or "window" was 7 feet over my head to start with, and even based on my rusty knowledge of geometry and physics, I was way too big to get my body through that tiny hole. But I was determined.
"I'm coming to help you, Natasha, I called out. . . Mommy's coming!"
I closed the lid on the toilet and jumped up on top of the back, but the opening in the wall was still way too high up for me to reach. Another woman came in the bathroom, and I quickly recruited her (i.e., forced her) to get involved, "Come help me!!" I demanded.
"I have to get up through that hole in the wall!!
I quickly told her to cup her hands, which I stepped into, then I climbed one foot on her back and crawled onto her shoulders and then was just able to get my arms hanging inside the window. But then, once I had my arms in the window, I somehow had to pull my entire body up several feet and somehow manage to fit my body through that teeny, tiny window only 12 inches hight. It was tricky. I struggled and strained and scraped until I forced all of my limbs through the window like sausage going through a meat grinder. I admit it: it wasn't pretty. But, once Natasha saw me appear in that window, the look of surprise and relief on her face was reward enough. The tears and the screaming immediately stopped.
Once the sausage production was complete and I scraped and crammed my limbs through the tiny window, I hoisted myself down to Natasha, dropping 10 feet on the floor to land near her side. She was ecstatic to see me and gave me a suffocating hug that somehow calmed my now-racing heart. I slid the metal bar on the door to the right, and we walked out of the bathroom stall together, victorious in our union. By now a small crowd had formed in the bathroom and all of the women clapped for me upon our exit. Several of them remarked that they could not believe I climbed up through that small hole in the wall. But, I believe it. And, for about a week after, I had extremely painful, black and blue marks all over my upper and lower legs to prove it. (Since I knew you would all want to share the pain with me, I've even included horribly unflattering photos of my black and blue marks below).
But most importantly the reason I believe I could do it, is because I know that there is not ANYTHING - not heaven or earth or mountain or desert - that could come in the way of a mother animal rescuing her young.*
*Of course this "mother bear" principal applies to many caregivers other than mothers, including some (but not all) fathers, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. etc. But, while these unique mother bear instincts may be true of some other family members, I believe these personality traits to be true of virtually ALL mothers.
I guess you could say, It's just a mom, thang!
Once the sausage production was complete and I scraped and crammed my limbs through the tiny window, I hoisted myself down to Natasha, dropping 10 feet on the floor to land near her side. She was ecstatic to see me and gave me a suffocating hug that somehow calmed my now-racing heart. I slid the metal bar on the door to the right, and we walked out of the bathroom stall together, victorious in our union. By now a small crowd had formed in the bathroom and all of the women clapped for me upon our exit. Several of them remarked that they could not believe I climbed up through that small hole in the wall. But, I believe it. And, for about a week after, I had extremely painful, black and blue marks all over my upper and lower legs to prove it. (Since I knew you would all want to share the pain with me, I've even included horribly unflattering photos of my black and blue marks below).
But most importantly the reason I believe I could do it, is because I know that there is not ANYTHING - not heaven or earth or mountain or desert - that could come in the way of a mother animal rescuing her young.*
*Of course this "mother bear" principal applies to many caregivers other than mothers, including some (but not all) fathers, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. etc. But, while these unique mother bear instincts may be true of some other family members, I believe these personality traits to be true of virtually ALL mothers.
I guess you could say, It's just a mom, thang!
And, I've got the bruises to prove it!
oh my gawd! So glad you didn't break your leg or get stuck on the way. Funny account, though; I'm sure Natasha will appreciate reading your view of it when she's older, because she'll certainly remember it from her vantage point also!
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