I am the swatter of death….

“I am the thing of nightmares. I am the swatter of death. The thing you should fear in the night. I make death come silently and quick. I will stalk and smash your children. Buzz near and you shall meet your end.”

The previous was the monologue running through my head at 3am as I sat up in my hotel room in Morogoro swatting mosquitoes. I had checked into what seemed like a nice hotel. Unfortunately my mosquito net didn’t really fit the bed. It was an awkward size. It was either dragging on my face or my feet were sticking out. That left me huddled in the corner of my bet with my head lamp on the spiffy red light setting, newspaper in my right and cell phone in the left. I was texting home like mad as I sat up killing the bugs. Their buzzing so loud and bites so frequent that sleep was something I was dreaming about. On my way home as I worked to contain my scratching of the previous night’s attack, I had a run in with flies. They seem to have come out of everywhere. Just a few weeks ago, the occasional fanning motion over your plate was necessary to shoo away the unwanted diners. Now they are everywhere all of the time. It seems like they just popped up and they aren’t phased by swishing hands or ponytails. They sit and spit on my food and walk on my skin with their grubby little legs.

When I made it back to Dar, I saw the same problem. Watching the mzungu in the cafeteria is amusing. We are all swatting and fanning like crazy. I can only imagine what the Tanzanians are thinking. I rarely see them raise a hand to the pests They seem completely un-phased by the whole thing. In talking with Kate, we’ve decided that we need fly swatters and we are going on a rampage. Then we concluded that they would come reincarnate; they don’t really seem to die even when you squish them.

Having not grown up with many insects, I’m not so comfortable sharing my personal space with small vermin. When we did have a bug problem, there were sprays, candles, creams, nets, and swatters. The average person here just ignores the buzzing and continues on with their activities. I don’t know if I could ever be acclimated to that. I’m far more accepting than I was. I draw the line though at the fly trying to crawl down my drinking straw to seal some of my soda.

Insects are a part of life in Tanzania. Like a previously stated, there are some things I can tolerate. The baby termites that live in my desk have an agreement with me: they can walk along the wall and under the desk ledge but my bed is off limits. They seem fairly respectful of this. Occasionally there is a rogue who meets an early end. The homes I’ve visited are not necessarily proactive about insects either. When the ants are parading not the sink they get washed away. No pesticide is use. I think the mentality of they just will come back is prevalent. I’ve seen this to be true. I’ve sprayed my closet more than twice and I still have spiders that like the top shelf. I’ve just decided not to put things up there. Leave them alone and they leave me alone. Part of me misses the awful smell of insecticide once a month (the manager would come and spray our apartment when I was living at home). I felt a little safer opening cupboards and drawers. For now I keep dong the double check: first the handle, then look again. Then open the drawer gingerly.