Who's afraid of the big bad snake?

ME.
I am afraid of the big, bad snake.
Very, very, very afraid.  Imagine my horror, after another session of hiding from the swarms of termites, under my mosquito, in the dark, I hear a loud, "Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!"[1][1]  And cries of, "Kill it! GET IT AGAIN! Hit it! Oh no! It’s still moving! Go!Go!Go!"
Stupidly not able to resist such a melee, I jumped out of bed and tried to get to the scene.


I did not take this picture, I also did encounter a toad this big...
though in the heat of the moment, I might have thought it was that big.

 However, I was waylaid by a large[2][2] toad sitting on my doorstep.
I let out a rather embarrassing screech.





I am fairly certain that the last time such a sound passed my lips was when I was 5 and a nasty little boy was chasing me around the playground with something icky. It was one of those stereotypically girly, high-pitched, slightly hysterical and totally helpless numbers-- Four qualities that I do not prize in myself or in anyone else…
Of course, given the snake killing ruckus happening near the kitchen, my screaming is interpreted as a call to arms by my neighbors; who are now calling out to make sure I am OK. My response went something like this,

“Yes, I’m fine, it was just a—AH! (loud screech) – Sorry it moved… it’s just a-- OH MY GOD! F***ing HELL!—Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just a frog, I’ll be fine. No, I think it might be dead… How do I get rid of it, it’s in my way… Um, can someone come over here and remove this frog for me? Wait, never mind, I’ve got it. (pause) I think its dead anyway. (some poking at the frog with a shoe) AH! (another loud screech) S*** it moved! It’s not dead! (announced rather loudly as though everyone was interested) AH! It hopped. Oh! Where did it go? Oh crap, I hope it’s not in my room!”

All this time the snake killers (i.e. our IT guy and one of our project officers) are decimating this snake using various methods including stoning, bludgeoning with a stick, hacking at it with a machete and yelling at it. (I think that the last was the least effective, but the technique that they had the most fun with) Of course, their heroics (?) make my plight with the frog seem all the more pathetic. Grasping my ridiculousness, and now thouroughly embarrassed, I tried to accomplish my original mission, going over to see the snake, with some dignity.
I looked down one last time to see if my hoppy friend was still around when the second wildlife encounter of the night happened.

When termites swarm, they fly around, get into everything, and then their wings fall off and they start to crawl. Consequently, as I was looking for the frog, there were THOUSANDS of little transparent wings all over the ground in front of my door. A carpet of translucent insect appendages awaited me. Trudging through this disgusting shimmer were hundreds of other bugs feasting on the remains. The kings of the carnage were the four lizards crunching all those creatures unlucky enough to be lower on the food chain. I think that one of Dante’s circles of hell looked just like this.
I could not step in the middle of this in my flip-flops. So, I reached for the bug spray. I’m certain that this Sudanese bug spray is of a grade and quality that means it could never be sold in the US or Europe legally. Long story short, the wings and the wing-eaters are history. (The eaters of the wing-eaters ran away.)



St George and the dragon

 Having shooed, chased away or murdered all the obstacles in my path, I made my way to the snake battle. (which was still ongoing) I don’t know why I went over there in the first place. I really hate snakes. A lot. The end of the killings was our IT guy channelling St. George as he vanquished the serpent, with a stone raised ready to smush snake into smitherines. Frankly, watching this one writhe has made me twitchy.

As I’ve been typing this I have jumped 3 times because I thought my computer cable was a serpent. I feel like such a coward.

For the better part of the last decade I have traveled to over 2 dozen countries on 4 continents all by myself. I have talked to thieves, crooked officials, and recently lots of scary men with guns. I have not been afraid.

I’m living in the equatorial jungle where I am exposed to diseases most people have never even heard of. I’m not anxious.

I have ridden wild horses, stroked a cheetah, dated an Irishman, and once, was chased by a camel. Though challenging, these were fun times.

Before tonight, I did not think of myself as a wuss. I was wrong. Throw some harmless reptiles and a few insects that can’t hurt me into the ring and I’m mush. So, so embarrassing.



 Writing with shame and vulnerability from under my mosquito net,
J

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[1][1] please imagine you own version of the sound of a man bludgeoning a snake in the mud with a stick

[2][2] OK, fine maybe it was only about 3 inches big