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Should we leave them to die?

The battle over how to save orangutans from the curse of palm oil by Sally Williams, read by Saskia Reeves The Banana Skins The banana skins were an ominous sign,

as was the branch that had been broken off to get to the fruit.

Had Eddie Ramley walked into the forest,

he might have seen scattered balls of bark that had been ripped off trees,

chewed like gum, then spat out.

It takes a powerful jaw to do that.

Closer to Eddie's home, there was an intricate construction

of bent and broken branches high in a tree.

The nest.

It was October, the fruiting season.

The pile of half-eaten bananas was less than a minute's walk from where Eddie and his family slept.

He felt nervous.

He got on with his day. He picked sweet corn and sold it at the

market. He bought a carton of chocolate milk and biscuits for his grandson. He and his wife, Siti

Munawarro, ran the farm with their three adult children. They prepped the land, sowed seeds, tended crops. Survival depended on what they

could grow. Now, at five in the afternoon, the light was beginning to fade. Suddenly, Eddie heard a cry.

A neighbour's child who'd been bathing in the river came running back, frightened.

He said he'd seen an orangutan. Eddie ran towards the river, the farm's guard dog at his heels.

...