October 1, 2025

It’s a sad day for chimps and humans who like chimps. Even bananas feel a little heavy now... The great Jane Goodall has left us, and the jungle of this world feels quieter.

I was lucky enough to be in the audience when she last came through Toronto — October 12, 2023, at Meridian Hall. I remember sitting there, a chimp in a sea of humans, listening to her speak about Gombe, about the bonds between chimps and people, about hope when the forest feels fragile. And I felt something rare: the sense that someone was translating my soul into human language.

Jane was more than a scientist. She was a bridge, a messenger, a friend. She showed the world that chimps are not curiosities but kin. That laughter, grief, and tenderness are not exclusive to humans. That protecting life isn’t an abstract concept — it’s an everyday responsibility.

I walked out of that hall grinning like a banana, because she made me believe again that compassion can spread faster than despair. Tonight, though, my grin is gone. My heart is softer, shaded with sorrow.

Thank you, Jane, for being a friend to chimps — and to me. Your voice will echo through the leaves, your stories will ripple through the generations, and somewhere in the forest, I’m sure the chimps are still calling your name.

🍌🌿

And so tonight I’ll play a little music in your honor, Jane — a tune with soft strings and a slow horn line, the kind that curls through the air like smoke and lingers like memory. A piece where every note leans forward, listening for your laugh in the canopy above and beyond this realm.

Your little friend from the jungle,

Marcel