Oh, Africa

Sometimes I am jolted by just how desensitized I have become to a lot of what might have shocked or intimidated me in my other life. A few short short stories:

I was riding in the back of a matolawhen the driver braked hard, sending a big bowl of fresh and juicyusipa (small fish) sliding with speed, spilling out when it hit my knees. I gave the owner a raised eyebrow look then picked all the fish off my legs and the truck bed and shoved the bowl back in his direction, where he secured it. It was only when the temperature rose higher and I could smell the usipa on my skirt that I realized I still had blood and scales on my legs.

I was walking back from the trading center 5k away from my site, trying to flag down a ride to rescue me from the intense heat. There are very few cars on the road these days thanks to the fuel shortage, so when a kid said, “Madame, you can come on my bicycle,” I hesitated only a moment before straddling the back rack and awkwardly holding my legs out while he pedaled us up the hill.

One night, I was writing in my journal at my desk when I heard my kitten shift in her basket. A moment later it dawned on me that Zen was purring away inside my desk. The spider in her basket, though, was heavy enough to make it creak. Okay , I’m not desensitized to that yet, but…

One day as I was doing my morning arachnid-control sweep of my house I lifted my backpack, sending a colorful quick-footed pest skittering under my suitcase, dragging a heavy tail. I hunted down and crushed the scorpion and bequeathed it as a peace offering to the ants, then watched the parade carry it off in one glorious piece to the queen.

I’ve begun storing my food in hanging baskets to keep the mice at bay. So they have begun to eat my dishes.

My fantabulous friend Kathi and I were lying on the beach 10 feet from the water, chatting and watching the waves. A herd of cattle crossed between us and the lake, somehow tiptoeing around our bare feet.

Two of the boys and I were walking from a women’s group meeting to a biodiversity research meeting. We were escorted by a man in a red scarf and a pilled Santa Claus hat. Strange because it was 100 degrees, and October…though not that strange as far as Malawian attire is concerned.

I open my chim door at night to find…a silvery purple snake slithering up the wall…dozens of scattering roaches…an infestation of crickets the size of my hand…
I open the gate of my courtyard to find a meter-long monitor lizard lazing in my compost pile.

A neighbor comments about how quickly my kitten is growing. “Oh,” she says, “she is growing well. You feed her well! She is getting very fat.” She lowers her eyelids shyly and offers me a compliment, “Just like you,” she says.

I wake in the rain and pull my window shut. I am jolted a moment later by a 7 inch kool-ade blue centipede climbing in on its spindly stilettos. After I kill it by repeatedly stomping it I try to figure out which end is the biting end. Or do they sting?

I am eating at my desk when a bat enters the room through the gap in the roof. I roll my eyes and ignore it as it makes frantic laps around the bedroom, lost. Even when it slams into my walls and slides onto my dishes, even when the cat tries to eat it and then chickens out, even when it crash lands, 4 times, onto my mosquito net, I am not phased. When it slaps me in the face and tries to latch onto my ponytail, however, it is flung against the wall and smashed with my heaviest pest-killin’ shoes.

Lightning strikes my house. Twice.

A camel spider runs into my living room full speed ahead. I have no hope of catching it due to its speed, but Zen is on the job. She actually drools on the floor as she eats it alive and whole.

A storm hits and I am rained on in bed through the small holes in my roof. I take the time to move my bed, ignorant to the fact that my kitchen is flooding due to the missing window panes.

One day I kill 8 scorpions in my bedroom in 24 hours.

Yes, folks, my life is nothing if not adventurous.