Kelly Hussey-Smith, Australia

Caged

32 years ago A Kou was born in Japan. At the time of her second birthday she was sent to live in Beijing. On arrival in China she was confined to a room 6 metres wide, 4.5 metres long, and 6.5 metres high. She had a son who was called Ni Kou. He was taken away from her and they have not seen each other since. For most of her 32 years A Kou has sat alone in a small dark concrete cube.

A Kou is a large Gorilla. In the wild she would live with between 3 and 30 gorillas and would be responsible for teaching her son how to eat, how to socialise, and eventually how to mate. Gorillas use handmade tools, live in family groups, communicate with gestures and sounds, and have good memories. Mothers in particular have been known to grieve the loss of family members, especially their own offspring.

I began to visit A Kou in Beijing in May 2009, 32 years after her arrival. Over this time she had grown overweight and lethargic.

I continued to visit her over the two-month period that I was based in Beijing. Sometimes she would stare fiercely out at me and I would feel intimidated. Other times she would stare over my head, almost mindlessly.
On a bad day she would rock back and forth.

During this time I watched tourists and locals come to visit A Kou. Desperate for her attention, visitors would pound the thick viewing glass with bottles of coke.

Parents would pose their children in front of her. Camera flashes would briefly illuminate the gaggle of faces staring at her. For just a moment, this light would completely reveal the barren concrete cage in which she was forced to live. Despite this, she rarely reacted.

Although I wanted her to like me, or to sense that my stare was different, I knew it was impossible.

Caged is a response to her story.