Oh my!

I can cope with the monstrous spiders on my bedroom walls. I'm all right with the cockroaches on the bathroom floor. The giant rat that lives in the yard doesn't give me problems. I avoid them when I have to, but for the most part, we all coexist quite peaceably (except for the part where I, or someone nearby, kills the unwanted pest).

None of these critters caused me any lasting trauma. I see them, I may squeal a little, or hop back on one foot...but the unfortunate foe either meets its end, or crawls away and leaves me unharmed in any way.

I recently experienced a much more memorable encounter with a small, unwanted animal.

It all began one dark night, when, for the nightly electricity outage, I could stand the sweltering heat of our fan-less bedroom no longer, and went out to the veranda to catch a breeze. It wasn't long before a fellow room mate quit the heat of the room and joined me on the veranda. And there we sat talking.

Our conversation became more involved, and by the time the electricity came back on, and we could have returned to our room, under the relief of a working fan, neither of us moved. We simply sat, talking in the globe light coming from the nearby streetlights. It was around this time, as I sat talking and staring into the ghostly courtyard, that a stray strand of twine captured my attention.

However, as we chatted and I stared, this piece of twine slithered. I don't know if you knew, but...twine doesn't generally move of its own accord. In fact...it doesn't. Ever. Needless to say, my previously loosely directed attention was suddenly riveted on this "twine." I stared, and pointed, and mumbled something along the lines of "I think there's a snake over there."

My partner in conversation got up and said she would be back with a flashlight to see for sure. Of course, by "I think there's a snake over there," what I really meant was "I know there's a snake over there. And you're an idiot" (pardon...that may sound harsh. It's an India Field Studies thing). However, I allowed her to leave, as I stood (it may have been more like a hop back on one foot, the details are a bit fuzzy), my eyes stuck to this mass slithering toward the veranda.

She came back with her flashlight and agreed that yes, indeed there was a snake ("Mh-hmm."). We went to wake the host family.

Appa was first up, and ready for battle. However, his weapon of choice is most commonly a small, twig broom. I've heard tales of Appa wielding a sling-shot, but have yet to experience this myself. Regardless, this twig broom appeared on this evening. It would not be sufficient against this beast. When Appa saw the enemy at hand, and realization dawned, he lowered his broom and yelled something in the local tongue to our host father.

Our dear host father came out of the bedroom, groggy, and saw the snake (this thing was big). He went back to his room, and emerged once again with a large, wooden stick in hand and quite a bit more focus in his eyes. He solemnly declared this an extremely poisonous viper.

As the females of the household (myself inclusive) huddled against the wall, this brave man bent over the snake, wooden stick hovering, until just the right moment, when the stick came down, smashing the head of the snake.

This, sadly, was not a sufficient blow. Although the snake was incapacitated, and would not likely live through the night...it was not dead. I think. The snake slayer sent another forceful jab to the serpent's head. The exact time of death for this unpleasant visitor is still in question by all witnesses. The being continued to writhe, squirm, and slither for quite some time after the first two blows to the head. Our courageous host father continued on in his brave battle for many long minutes before finally satisfied with the amount of life left in the dying (or dead) fiend coiled at the steps of his home.

Although this incident is over, and through the course of the night, I am confident that the snake was sufficiently killed and disposed of (as I stood watching the majority of the process), I have been left with an inescapable sense of fear whenever laeving the safety of my bedroom late at night. The spiders, the cockroaches, and the rat have left little (no?) impression on me. But the look in the eyes of my host father, and the tone in his voice when he thanked us for waking him have not left me.

Snakes do not commonly frequent the homes in this area, and all immediate danger has been removed. Another snake is not expected. And yet, I am left worrying each night, waving my flashlight around the courtyard, frightened that I might see something.

I am glad to be here. This is a wonderful country, and a wonderful opportunity. And I thank God that I don't have to stay here forever.