The Silver-Backed Chevrotain

     In early 2020, I read an interesting article in a science magazine about a mammal—thought to have been extinct for over 30 years—caught on a webcam in the deepest rainforests of South Vietnam. It had the pretty name of chevrotain, a scientific name of Tragulus versicolor, and in the grainy photo of the magazine, it looked like a small deer. I read that it was often called a mouse-deer, though it was more the size of a rabbit, and this particular species was endowed with silver markings, tiny sharp fangs and delicate hoofs. How, in this day and age, could a creature suddenly emerge, having not been sighted for 30 years? Scientists were so sure of its demise that the silver-backed chevrotain was feared to be extinct.

 

     The first time it happened, I was totally unprepared. I felt no pain, only shock and disbelief as I tried to focus on the accompanying words. I didn’t understand what was happening to me; it felt like a dream. At the time, the hurt ran deep. But afterwards I pushed the event to the back of my mind and concentrated on trying to decipher the context. I was fully in denial. It was a once-off aberration. This couldn’t be happening to me. My life had not prepared me for the stigma attached to the event.

 

     The mouse-deer is the smallest hoofed mammal in the world, and the extinction of the silver-backed species was indeed a tragic loss. Its disappearance, along with many other creatures, had a huge impact on the rainforest ecosystem. When a forest becomes devoid of animals due to poaching or deforestation, it is said to be afflicted with “Empty Forest Syndrome,” a term coined in the 90s. An eerie silence devours the jungle: chirruping, crackling, rustling, slitherings in the undergrowth and leaves become sounds of the past.

 

     I knew I couldn’t tell anyone. Silence and shame were my constant companions. I was an intelligent woman, and had two young sons, but this was my second marriage and I couldn’t fail twice. It was best if I disappeared deeper into my own world of domestic busyness and distractions. No one would wonder why I no longer attended coffee mornings, volunteered at the canteen or visited the mothers’ club. After all, I had my hands full with small children and a large house to keep me occupied.

 

     The silver-backed chevrotain, a shy and solitary creature, had a distinctive silver line running down its back. For 30 years, that silver back had not been seen by human eyes; out of sight, out of mind, sucked into oblivion.

     "For so long this species has seemingly only existed as part of our imagination," said An Nguyen, a scientist for Global Wildlife Conservation who took part in the expedition to find proof that the creature had survived.

 

     Over six years I existed, as it were, hidden from sight in a place where shame and guilt consumed me. Then after the escape, my secret lay submerged for over 30 years keeping it close to my chest, like a spy in a clandestine operation. How did I manage this so successfully? I did it with the complicity of society. People shy away from the cruel reality of human nature.

    My husband was a charming man, and multi-talented. No one would have believed me if I had spoken out about his ugly side. After all, it takes two to tango; If I was a victim, then he too was a victim. He had to contend with work pressures, financial stress, my insecurities, and we both had to live up to society’s expectations. I wasn’t the perfect wife either. I was not a good housewife, too untidy, not domesticated. I did not make life easy for him and this is how I justified his actions. I believed that with patience and compassion I could fix it.

     I read more about this amazing species. It is an ancient mammal, which has evolved over 20 billion years to become an elusive and canny prey. Fragile and delicate, existing only on flowers and plants, it can dart in and out of the forest undergrowth undetected. One species can even hold its breath underwater for something like five minutes. Submerged and a strong swimmer, it can fool even the most determined predator.

 

     I told myself his insecurities would subside, and the bouts of rage would grow less as the years passed. After all, the events only happened a few times a year, and I was getting skilled at deflecting them. I was a good girl now. I never went anywhere without him, hardly saw anyone outside of work, so I reasoned that, in time, he would grow to trust me.

 

     Through the years, the silver-backed chevrotain was hunted for its tender meat by the local Indigenous populations. It was their tradition to hunt the mouse-deer not with guns but with slingshots. The mammals might have had a chance at surviving were these local hunters their main predators. But overnight, greedy poachers entered the rainforests with their sophisticated snares and guns and the delicate creatures became collateral damage in the illegal wildlife trade.

 

    I swore I had been faithful. I would never hurt him by having an affair. He begged me to tell him the truth. I am telling the truth, please believe me, I begged back. I was grovelling now, demeaning myself in front of him, terrified, as I watched the black circles of his pupils grow larger.

 

    Deer naturally camouflage themselves into the gray and brown of the undergrowth and the chevrotain had the presence of mind to do just that. The few remaining mouse-deer faded into the background, seeking safer places deeper in the rainforest.

    Why did I stay, not only endangering myself but also my boys? Truth was, over time I had lost my survival skills; I was now compliant and brainwashed. I was colorless, I retreated into myself, depressed, humiliated, victimized, no longer able to justify staying, but finding no way to leave. There was no safe haven for me. Like the Empty Forest, I had been stripped of all resources, self-reliance and sustentation; I became a ghost.

 

     The chevrotains withdrew deeper into the forest, merging into the tangles of dense brushwood, bamboo, and strangled fig, becoming no more than a faint scent on the wind, until they were forgotten, and the hunters believed all the creatures had been trapped or exterminated like vermin.

 

     One night the boys were sleeping peacefully, when out of nowhere he started interrogating me. I recognized the tone and was powerless to stop myself from trembling. I felt my body become weak and defenseless. Trying to remain calm and not cry, I sought ways to diffuse the tension, maybe some light-hearted remark that would make the bout pass quickly. But then, he brought his face so close to mine that all I could see was the blurry ugly rendition of his features. I could hear his heavy breathing and feel the anger simmering. I didn’t resist when he put his strong hands around my neck and squeezed and squeezed. I let the tears course down my cheeks believing this was the beginning of the end. I felt no pain; I was crying not for myself but for my children whom I had let down. His fingers tightened and I blacked out.

 

     I was excited to find footage of the silver-backed chevrotains returning to life, as it were, after 30 years in the darkness. Conservationists had left strategically placed webcams in the forest where the mammals had been sighted, and here I was viewing the YouTube video on my phone. I gasped as one tiny creature appeared and sniffed the undergrowth around the camera, tentatively lifting and lowering each delicate hoof as if to test the surety of the ground beneath—sunlight reflected the glint of silver along its back. Those mythological Chevrotains were emerging stronger than ever, marking their territory, no longer victims of extinction, but survivors.

 

     In the end, I had a badly bruised neck and he was full of remorse. But the guilt of jeopardizing my children by staying, had been stronger than the guilt I had felt over leaving him. For the past 30 years, I’ve fought my own demons over my recklessness but have grown stronger with maturity. I never sought counseling; I never took pain relief. I never succumbed to the oblivion of alcohol or drugs. I lived my life looking forward, raising my boys to be fine and kind husbands.

     How did I become so stubborn, so skilled at hiding secrets? Was it the example of my parents? My father, Holocaust survivor, who successfully hid his heritage for decades out of fear, shame, or the desire to assimilate. Or my mother, who was abandoned by her Filipino father when she was a baby but would never be defined by her past. Despite being plagued with mental illness all her life, she went on to become a successful artist after she married my father and they immigrated to Australia. Unlike society, intergenerational trauma doesn’t discriminate.

     It took me three decades to stop feeling guilty, to realize it was never my fault, that I did what I did because I didn’t know any better and because society had no safeguards in place for someone like me.

 

     The longer you keep a secret, the harder it is to expose. But now, 30 years later, the time was right. I joined a group of survivors, mostly brave young women with children who had escaped violent partners and were still hurting and scared. I listened to them in awe and marvelled at how they were feeling the same shame, the same fear, the same numbness I had felt all those years ago. It was a mind-shattering experience to find I was not alone. I was among sympathetic people from every race, color, and background who had all suffered the same way. Now feeling trusted and valued, I found the courage to speak out and tell my story.

     Eventually I healed enough to confide my secret to people who had known me for years. My friends and family were shocked by my description of the brutal abuse at the hands of someone who professed to love me…no one had ever suspected or imagined the trauma I had endured.

     Now, look at me! I am emerging from my black hole of shame, no longer hidden from the world—and like the chevrotain, I emerge not as a victim, but as a survivor. Thanks to the inspiration of this tiny, near-extinct mammal, I am longer ashamed of my past. Hopefully my story will help other survivors to find the courage to emerge sooner rather than later—30 years is a long time. But hey, if that’s what it takes to build up the strength and resources to come back from the edge of extinction…then who are we to judge?

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jVFEzQujWw

Video by Southern Institute of Ecology/Global Wildlife Conservation/Leibniz Institute for Zoo and Wildlife Research/NCNP