It was an ordinary humid morning in the lush forest near Angkor Wat, where life blooms between ancient stones and tall trees. Tourists moved slowly along the pathways, camera shutters clicking, unaware that just beyond the trail, a tragedy was unfolding for one tiny soul.
SORA, a baby monkey barely a few months old, had wandered just a little too far from her mother. Like many curious little ones, her steps were clumsy and wide-eyed. Mama LINA was busy grooming her older sibling, and for just a few seconds—those precious seconds—she lost sight of her baby.
SORA’s tiny hands brushed against a patch of fallen leaves. She playfully poked at a twig, oblivious to the danger hiding underneath. Beneath the seemingly harmless pile was a nest of fire ants—angry, territorial, and ready to protect.
It happened in an instant. The swarm burst out with terrifying speed, crawling up SORA’s arms and legs. A high-pitched scream cut through the peaceful air. Visitors turned, confused by the sudden cry. Then another scream—sharp, agonizing, unmistakably one of pure pain.
She scrambled in panic, her feet slapping the ground as she tried to escape the stings. Her tiny body twisted in confusion. Red bites rose along her arms, belly, and cheeks. She rolled over fallen bark, desperate for relief. But the ants had already done their cruel work.
That’s when Mama LINA appeared.
Her eyes went wide. Her baby—her baby was crying, swollen, in agony. She rushed to SORA’s side and began frantically brushing off the biting ants with her bare hands and mouth. The forest held its breath.
A group of local rangers, familiar with the monkey families of Angkor, cautiously approached. One softly called out, “She needs help… those are fire ant stings.” They gently held back, not to scare Mama LINA, who was visibly shaking while holding her injured baby close to her chest.
SORA whimpered. Her eyes, usually so bright, were half-closed, her breathing shallow. LINA didn’t move. She held her baby tighter, lips pressed against SORA’s tiny head as if trying to transfer her strength, her love, into those fragile limbs.
Hours passed.
By the afternoon, the swelling began to ease, thanks to some rain and Mama LINA’s relentless care. She stayed by SORA’s side the entire time—no grooming, no eating, no socializing—just healing her child with every soft touch and glance.
I watched the entire moment unfold from behind a nearby stone wall. I had tears in my eyes. It reminded me so much of being a parent myself—how quickly joy can turn to fear, how fiercely love reacts when your child is in pain.
SORA eventually stirred. She reached up with one puffy little hand to touch her mother’s face. And then, a faint sound—a weak, short chirp. It was her way of saying, “I’m still here, Mama.”
That cry… it was everything.