TACUGAMA: Bala Amarasekaran has never felt like running his world-renowned sanctuary for orphaned chimpanzees in Sierra Leone was truly work, having come to his calling only after several unexpected twists of fate.
Standing in his Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary not far from the capital Freetown, he tenderly patted a young ape’s nose and stroked its cheek, whispering a few words of encouragement into its ear.
A nearby adolescent, visibly jealous, grabbed at Amarasekaran’s hand, pandering for his attention with an intense gaze.
The chimps are not just Amarasekaran’s life and work, but his family too. Since 1995 he has fought for them, nurtured them and preserved the oasis he created for them against an onslaught of dangers.
“I never feel I come to work because the chimps are a part of my life,” Amarasekaran told AFP. “It’s my passion, I come to see my family.”
In the face of armed rebel attacks during the country’s civil war, mass deforestation and even Ebola, Amarasekaran has ensured the chimps’ safety.
In the midst of it all, Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary has become the country’s leading ecotourism destination and a model for environmental conservation in west Africa.
The little apes in the enclosure visited by Amarasekaran had only recently arrived following traumatic life experiences.
Members of the critically endangered Western chimpanzee subspecies, the orphans are often malnourished or otherwise wounded by bullets or machetes, sometimes after being sold by poachers and kept as pets.
At the sanctuary, located inside the country’s Western Area Peninsula National Park, they will first be rehabilitated then freed into its dozens of hectares of protected tropical rainforest, already home to 123 primates.

Amarasekaran, a 64-year-old accountant by training, was by no means destined for a life protecting young apes.
“Well it all happened by accident,” Amarasekaran said, green eyes twinkling.
Amarasekaran first arrived in Sierra Leone at age 17 from Sri Lanka.
In 1988, while traveling in the countryside with his wife, Sharmila, the newlyweds were shocked to discover a baby chimpanzee tied to a village tree, malnourished and dehydrated.
“We took the chimp, otherwise he would have died,” Amarasekaran said, and once home “we actually looked after him like a child.”
Bruno, as he was named, would live with Amarasekaran for almost seven years until the sanctuary was built.
The couple was astounded by the ape’s emotions, and discovered that chimps had “the same kind of demands in terms of affection” as humans, Amarasekaran said.
The interspecies family grew as the Amarasekarans took in up to seven chimpanzees at a time.
Despite all the love, there could be “a lot of destruction,” Amarasekaran said.
Sometimes the chimps would escape from the house, causing damage to neighbors’ properties or stealing bread from passersby.
“I was public enemy number one,” Amarasekaran said with a laugh, often returning home to find bills for repairs from neighbors.

After a decisive meeting with renowned primatologist Jane Goodall in 1993, Amarasekaran secured funding from the European Union and a green light from the Sierra Leone government.
At the time, Amarasekaran thought he would commit one to two years to the project and then hand over the sanctuary.
But that never happened.
“I didn’t realize the chimps would become a very important part of my life,” Amarasekaran said, his voice breaking with emotion.
Thanks to his awareness campaign, the government declared the chimpanzee the “national animal of Sierra Leone” in 2019.
Over the years the sanctuary has endured many challenges. During the country’s civil war, which lasted from 1991 to 2002, the sanctuary was attacked twice by rebels and completely looted.
Amarasekaran had to negotiate with the fighters to spare his staff and chimps’ lives.
Later, the Ebola epidemic posed an existential threat to humans and chimps alike. The center closed for a year and caregivers moved into the facility.
The same system was also put in place for several months during Covid-19.

Faced with an alarming increase in deforestation and illegal encroachment on the national park where the refuge is located, Amarasekaran is taking drastic measures.
Since late May he has kept the sanctuary closed in a protest meant to shock the government into action.

So far however, the government has not responded, and the financial consequences for the sanctuary, which depends on tourism and donations, are weighing heavily.
As a keeper it is easy to develop a special bond with a few favorite chimps, just like among humans, Amarasekaran said.
He had been particularly close with Bruno, Julie and Philipp, now deceased.
These days, he likes to visit with Mac, Mortes and Abu: “These are my friends,” he said while smiling.
As AFP accompanied Amarasekaran around the sanctuary, a roar of excitement arose from an enclosure where some of the adults were gathered.
The adoring screeches seemed proof that the unique love Amarasekaran professed for his chimps goes both ways.