Adventures in Africa...

Just imagine. I'm sipping green tea, eating an apple and reading a book on good ole David Livingston. I'd just finished writing a letter to Rachel, in which (and she can verify when she gets the letter)I explain the love I have for my IPOD as it drowns out the sounds of rats and lizards under my bed at night. Maybe I should have checked on that noise. Hindsight is always 20/20. Back to the story. I hear a little noise coming from my room and then out slithers a cobra. I jump onto my chair and start screaming. This is the second time my village has heard my cry at night. So I'm standing on my chair holding my weapons of choice-an apple core and Nalgene bottle (not sure what plans I had for those) when my neighbors run up. They knock on my door. Sometimes their politeness is aggravating! I yell for them to come in already. At this point the snake is nowhere to be found and I run outside to stand next to my 8 year old neighbor for protection. Finally I hear a thrashing and return to see blood splatter under my bed and the snake dead. To my extreme pleasure even my villagers thought it was big. I make Billy search the entire hut to ensure any of the snake’s extended family (I know how Africans are with their extended families) has departed. After I've calmed down a bit I have to laugh when Billy says to me, "Chipego, it is as if you are not American. Haven't you seen American films? Even small children are not afraid of snakes!" What films has he been watching? Hasn't he seen Anaconda? He later somewhat redeems himself when he tells me, "Since we were born we have not been defeated by snakes. Then what, one night, a snake will come to beat Chipego? No, it isn't so. You came to see how we live, this is how we live." Never being one to appreciate the under-dramatization of events I roll my eyes and tell him goodnight.

So the first time the village heard my call for help was 2 weeks prior to the snake incident. Let me preface this by saying I know all about Smokey the Bear. Let me also say that every morning I attempt to start a fire and it takes way too long. So as I entered my pit latrine that night I wasn't really worried about the candle catching the grass roof on fire. And yet that is exactly what happened. Before I could even remember the Tonga word for fire the roof was ablaze and soon my bathing shelter followed. Where are the marshmallows when you need them? A fire like that should not go to waste! Anyway, Ryan, send those Ft Carson Fire Department shirts anytime buddy. I will wear it proudly.