With No Tourist Handouts, Hungry Bali Monkeys Raid Homes

Made Mohon, the operation manager of Sangeh Monkey Forest, feeds macaques with donated peanuts during a feeding time at the popular tourist attraction site in Sangeh, Bali Island, Indonesia, Wednesday, Sept. 1, 2021.Firdia Lisnawati/AP
Made Mohon, the operation manager of Sangeh Monkey Forest, feeds macaques with donated peanuts during a feeding time at the popular tourist attraction site in Sangeh, Bali Island, Indonesia, Wednesday, Sept. 1, 2021.Firdia Lisnawati/AP
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With No Tourist Handouts, Hungry Bali Monkeys Raid Homes

Made Mohon, the operation manager of Sangeh Monkey Forest, feeds macaques with donated peanuts during a feeding time at the popular tourist attraction site in Sangeh, Bali Island, Indonesia, Wednesday, Sept. 1, 2021.Firdia Lisnawati/AP
Made Mohon, the operation manager of Sangeh Monkey Forest, feeds macaques with donated peanuts during a feeding time at the popular tourist attraction site in Sangeh, Bali Island, Indonesia, Wednesday, Sept. 1, 2021.Firdia Lisnawati/AP

Deprived of their preferred food source — the bananas, peanuts and other goodies brought in by tourists now kept away by the coronavirus — hungry monkeys on the resort island of Bali have taken to raiding villagers’ homes in their search for something tasty.

Villagers in Sangeh say the gray long-tailed macaques have been venturing out from a sanctuary about 500 meters (yards) away to hang out on their roofs and await the right time to swoop down and snatch a snack.

Worried that the sporadic sorties will escalate into an all-out monkey assault on the village, residents have been taking fruit, peanuts and other food to the Sangeh Monkey Forest to try to placate the primates, reported The Associated Press.

“We are afraid that the hungry monkeys will turn wild and vicious,” villager Saskara Gustu Alit said.

About 600 of the macaques live in the forest sanctuary, swinging from the tall nutmeg trees and leaping about the famous Pura Bukit Sari temple, and are considered sacred.

In normal times the protected jungle area in the southeast of the Indonesian island is popular among local residents for wedding photos, as well as among international visitors. The relatively tame monkeys can be easily coaxed to sit on a shoulder or lap for a peanut or two.

Ordinarily, tourism is the main source of income for Bali’s 4 million residents, who welcomed more than 5 million foreign visitors annually before the pandemic.

The Sangeh Monkey Forest typically had about 6,000 visitors a month, but as the pandemic spread last year and international travel dropped off dramatically, that number dropped to about 500.

Since July, when Indonesia banned all foreign travelers to the island and shut the sanctuary to local residents as well, there has been nobody.

Not only has that meant nobody bringing in extra food for the monkeys, the sanctuary has also lost out on its admission fees and is running low on money to purchase food for them, said operations manager Made Mohon.

The donations from villagers have helped, but they are also feeling the economic pinch and are gradually giving less and less, he said.

“This prolonged pandemic is beyond our expectations,” Made Mohon said, “Food for monkeys has become a problem.”

Food costs run about 850,000 rupiah ($60) a day, Made Mohon said, for 200 kilograms (440 pounds) of cassava, the monkeys' staple food, and 10 kilograms (22 pounds) of bananas.

The macaque is an omnivore and can eat a variety of animals and plants found in the jungle, but those in the Sangeh Monkey Forest have had enough contact with humans over the years that they seem to prefer other things.

And they’re not afraid to take matters into their own hands, Gustu Alit said.

Frequently, monkeys wander into the village and sit on roofs, occasionally removing tiles and dropping them to the ground. When villagers put out daily religious offerings of food on their terraces, the monkeys jump down and make off with them.

“A few days ago I attended a traditional ceremony at a temple near the Sangeh forest,” Gustu Alit said. “When I parked my car and took out two plastic bags containing food and flowers as offerings, two monkeys suddenly appeared and grabbed it all and ran into the forest very fast.”

Normally, the monkeys spend all day interacting with visitors — stealing sunglasses and water bottles, pulling at clothes, jumping on shoulders — and Gustu Alit theorizes that more than just being hungry, they’re bored.

“That’s why I have urged villagers here to come to the forest to play with the monkeys and offer them food,” he said. “I think they need to interact with humans as often as possible so that they do not go wild.”



Sudanese Artists Cling to Their Craft in a Displacement Shelter

Residents receive aid from World Food Program (WFP) at Al-Omada neighborhood of Omdurman, the twin city of Khartoum on March 11, 2026. (AFP)
Residents receive aid from World Food Program (WFP) at Al-Omada neighborhood of Omdurman, the twin city of Khartoum on March 11, 2026. (AFP)
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Sudanese Artists Cling to Their Craft in a Displacement Shelter

Residents receive aid from World Food Program (WFP) at Al-Omada neighborhood of Omdurman, the twin city of Khartoum on March 11, 2026. (AFP)
Residents receive aid from World Food Program (WFP) at Al-Omada neighborhood of Omdurman, the twin city of Khartoum on March 11, 2026. (AFP)

At a school-turned-shelter in Port Sudan, rehearsal is a modest affair, but three years of war and the humble surroundings do little to dampen the sweet tunes rising from the two musicians.

With piles of bedding pushed to the side, the lone singer croons along to the melodies of a keyboardist -- part of a group of some 120 Sudanese artists who fled the brutal fighting between the army and the Rapid Support Forces.

In the courtyard downstairs, actors, screenwriters, painters and directors work in the sunshine, before retreating to their dormitories at night.

"It's like our own little cultural center," says visual artist Mohira Fathi, who fled the central state of Al-Jazira with her husband and son.

But the El-Rabat center is a far cry from the countless other shelters in the army's wartime capital of Port Sudan, where disease outbreaks and unrelenting hunger stalk tens of thousands.

Across the country, over nine million people are internally displaced and a record 33.7 million are in need of aid.

Like everyone else, these artists came to the army's wartime capital of Port Sudan on the Red Sea exhausted, traumatized and destitute.

"When I arrived, there weren't even any fans to help with the sweltering heat. People were sleeping on mats on the floor, with no access to water," musical troupe director Hossam al-Din al-Taher told AFP.

- 'Blessing' -

Slowly, as the war dragged on, word spread of a makeshift artists' commune forming, and people started flocking to the school in the hopes that being around fellow artists would help keep their careers alive.

"We didn't have instruments or costumes," Taher remembers, and artists had to take on odd jobs to earn a living, pooling their money together to buy a guitar here, a set of paints there.

Now, Taher conducts a small orchestra between piles of luggage.

For filmmaker Mohamed Ali Ibrahim, "it's a blessing that all of these artists found each other in the same place."

They share everything: food, money, mid-rehearsal coffees, living quarters separated only by fabric sheets, and every gig that comes their way.

Three years of war have destroyed Sudan's cultural scene. Theaters, studios and museums have been shut down or looted, while many of Sudan's top artists have fled across borders.

But El-Rabat's artists make do. They've put on shows for the neighborhood, held local photography exhibitions and, this Ramadan, had some of their actors return to the airwaves in a modest radio drama.

"We've learned there is no giving up," musician Assem Abdel Aziz told AFP after rehearsal.

"We have dreams here, that yard outside is full of dreams, full of energy," he says, flanked by a drum kit to his left and a mosquito net-covered cot to his right.


Fetching Votes: In Paris Mayor’s Race, Dogs Dominate Campaigns

People walk dogs on a pedestrian crossing in Paris, France, March 6, 2026. (Reuters)
People walk dogs on a pedestrian crossing in Paris, France, March 6, 2026. (Reuters)
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Fetching Votes: In Paris Mayor’s Race, Dogs Dominate Campaigns

People walk dogs on a pedestrian crossing in Paris, France, March 6, 2026. (Reuters)
People walk dogs on a pedestrian crossing in Paris, France, March 6, 2026. (Reuters)

Paris will choose a new mayor on Sunday, with one unlikely issue dominating campaigns alongside all the partisan acrimony - dogs.

Candidates from socialists to conservatives have set out policies to deal with an issue which voters have regularly ranked among their top concerns, a lack of space for the capital's estimated 100,000 canines.

"Paris isn't exactly a very dog-friendly capital," said Vincent Danna, founder of the Monceau Dog Club, a group of around 1,000 owners who have campaigned for more open spaces for their pets.

"It can indeed be a decisive factor in municipal elections. I think the candidates have understood that well."

Rachida ‌Dati, the conservative ‌candidate backed by President Emmanuel Macron, has filmed herself ‌with ⁠dogs on the ⁠campaign trail and told Reuters she would create new parks where owners can take their dogs for walks, or even let them run free.

"We're going to develop dog parks specifically to create these shared spaces. And not just for the sake of shared spaces, but so people can bring their pets along freely, without being bothered or judged. That's the idea," Dati ⁠said.

Socialist Emmanuel Gregoire, who led the first round of voting ‌last Sunday, has also committed to ‌expanding outdoor spaces for pets.

"The main goal is to have outdoor spaces where ‌animals can live as comfortably as possible," Gregoire told Reuters.

Sophia Chikirou, from ‌the hard-left LFI party who came third in the first round, has proposed letting owners take their dogs on all forms of public transport.

Pets have long played a role in French political life. Every president since Charles de Gaulle has ‌owned at least one dog. Far-right leader Marine Le Pen studied to get a cat-breeding diploma in 2021.

An Ifop ⁠poll in ⁠February showed 58% of French voters saw animal welfare as a priority issue in their municipality. So far, activists have taken the lead.

Following pressure from the Monceau Dog Club, the park of the same name has let dogs run free in a dedicated area in the first trial of its kind in the capital.

Still, not everyone is convinced dogs will make a difference in the second and final round of voting this weekend.

"If you ask me whether a dog plan is going to sway my vote one way or the other, I would say no. Because I think there are perhaps more important things," local resident Marie-Christine Alary said.

"But I do think it's a very good thing."


Fans of Niche Japanese Crisps Brand Panic After Oil Shortage Halts Production

A shopper checks food items at a supermarket in Tokyo, Japan January 20, 2023. (Reuters)
A shopper checks food items at a supermarket in Tokyo, Japan January 20, 2023. (Reuters)
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Fans of Niche Japanese Crisps Brand Panic After Oil Shortage Halts Production

A shopper checks food items at a supermarket in Tokyo, Japan January 20, 2023. (Reuters)
A shopper checks food items at a supermarket in Tokyo, Japan January 20, 2023. (Reuters)

Die-hard fans of ‌a niche Japanese crisps brand took to the internet on Tuesday to lament a production halt the snack maker Yamayoshi Seika blamed on a shortage of cooking oil caused by the conflict in the Middle East.

The US and Israel's war on Iran and the resulting effective closure of the vital Strait of Hormuz have fuelled fears of a knock-on impact on prices in ‌Japan. But news ‌of the crisps brand's suspension is ‌among ⁠the first tangible ⁠fallout for consumers.

Once the news spread, Yamayoshi Seika's "Wasabeef" became the third-most trending buzzword in Japan on social media platform X, with the company name trailing not far behind.

"I never expected the closure of the Strait of Hormuz to result in ⁠the production stoppage of Wasabeef," ‌user @JoshuaGboyega5 posted on X. "I ‌can't imagine life without Wasabeef!"

CEO Satoshi Kada said Yamayoshi ‌Seika's heavy oil wholesaler had warned him in ‌early March of an expected price hike of 20% to 30% and soon after said it could no longer send any supplies.

"We had no choice but ‌to stop the factory," he told Reuters, adding that he did not know ⁠when ⁠production could resume.

Yamayoshi Seika, which was established in 1953, calls Wasabeef a "national brand" characterized by a flavor blending wasabi and savory beef essence. The company has monthly sales of about 400 million to 500 million yen ($2.5 million to $3 million), Kada said.

Japan, which depends on the Middle East for around 95% of its crude oil supplies, this week began releasing about 80 million barrels of oil from its strategic reserves to mitigate disruptions.