November in Sintang truly brings the “always keep your umbrella ready” vibe. Rain has become part of the daily routine, and even as this story is being written, the sky is still hanging heavy with gray clouds. In the middle of this cool, damp weather, updates about Mamat are surprisingly calming—no drama, everything’s fine. His condition is stable, he’s healthy, his eating routine is consistent, and every meal given by the keeper is always finished down to the last piece.

Sometimes at night, staff passing by can hear his close companion, Beno, letting out a small cough or sneeze. But don’t worry—every orangutan in the quarantine center is closely monitored by the medical team to make sure they stay on track, especially during the rainy season when immune systems can drop easily.

Mamat’s interactions with Beno and Bablu are simple. They occasionally exchange glances from afar, but even that’s enough to show he is not lonely. He has his own rhythm. His morning routine always manages to bring smiles: Mamat pacing back and forth waiting for feeding time, practically acting like a living alarm for the keepers. When keepers clean the cage, he just watches intently with a dignified gaze—like a supervisor who does not get paid but definitely feels like he runs the place.

By midday, Mamat spends more time lounging around. Understandable—the weather swings from scorching hot to cool and damp in an instant. But when afternoon comes, his energy returns. That’s when his new hobby appears: pulling salak leaves from branches that poke into the cage, then playing with them like a rainforest version of a fidget toy. He twists, chews, and flips the leaves with adorable concentration.

When feeding time arrives? Mamat becomes the main star. He’s the loudest, calling out to the keepers, shouting for his portion until the staff know instantly: if they hear a “protesting roar” from the cage area, it’s definitely Mamat demanding his food.

His days get even livelier thanks to the occasional visit from a squad of red langurs from the Forest Park across the quarantine center, who like to hang out and eat rambutans near his cage. Mamat always seemed curious, observing them for a long time as if observing a noisy, drama-filled neighbor.

Looking ahead, the hope is simple but meaningful: that Mamat grows even more confident, more active, and gains more new experiences—from added natural enrichment to safe, controlled interactions, to those fun, unexpected moments that make his life more colorful.