Ants, Eagles, and Amber

Flying Ants

It’s 1:30 am.
I wake up to what sounds like a combination of rain, and a fly repeatedly hitting the wall. I investigate. It’s not raining, it’s just thousands of flying ants. Ants everywhere! Attracted by my porch light, they are ambushing the area, coming in under my door, and swarming my flashlight that I’m holding. I have a minor freak out when the first ant flies into my face.

Me: 0 Ants: 1

I hear muffled voices outside, so I ward off what was sure to be a panic attack to take a quick peak outside. There are 6 or 7 children on my porch, each equipped with a bucket, collecting the ants. I rationalize this by whispering to myself, “It’s normal. You’re in Africa”. I look around my house and there are flying ants everywhere. They are coming into the house from under the door in waves.

I make a decision.
I put my flashlight in the middle of my living room, wait until they are all lured out of my bedroom, stuff a towel under my front door, shut the door between my bedroom and living room, and go back to sleep. I’ve outsmarted them.

Me: 1 Ants: 1

It’s 7:00 am.
I wake up to the same sound as before, only on a slightly lesser scale. I carefully open the barrier door to the living room, armed with a book to swat the ants with the nerve to fly into my face. What I see are thousands of ant wings and ants crawling around everywhere. I peak outside, and the children are still at it. Same children.

I have a plan.
I throw open the front door. The children freeze, staring at the Muzungu dressed in her spandex capris, tank top, disheveled hair, and hurricane glasses, and wait for her to say something. I violently point inside and yell “ANTS!” This apparently was just the right combination of gesture and yelling in English to communicate my point. The kiddos sprint into my house and have all of the ants picked out and into their buckets in record speed. All that’s left for me to do is sweep up the remaining wings, as they seem to fall off, leaving the ants grounded, unable to fly into my face.

Me: 2 Ants: 1

So, I sweep up the wings. I sweep them all into a pile, stare at them and wonder how many ants it takes to make a pile this large, and then sweep them out my door. I shut my door, leaning against it and brushing my forehead in triumph.

Me: 3 Ants: 1

I wait inside for a while, checking every nook and cranny to make sure that I don’t have any friends lurking in corners. I finally lower the Ant Threat Level down to Yellow and decide to brave the outside world. Walking down the street, I’m waved over by my neighbors. They are cooking giant pans full of ants. I am offered ants by the handful, but say that I am going to the office and can’t take them with me. I go to the office.

After work, I am back at my house doing some very serious and very slow internet surfing, when a local comes in my house and hands me a very large plastic bag half full of something. He says it’s from the neighbors and leaves. I’m left holding up this bag, which, much to my chagrin, is full of fried ants. I figure that I have no excuse now not to eat them and that I would be rude not to try them, as they are sure to ask me how they were the next time I surfaced from my concrete lair.

So, I try the fried ants.

Me: 3 Ants: 2

They tasted like a combination of stale beef jerky and dog breath, leaning towards the latter.
An antenna got stuck in my teeth.

Me: 3 Ants: 3

I see a missed ant crawling across the floor, look at his friends in my hand, and take another bit.

Me: 4 Ants: 3

I win.


The Electrician

Although my house is wired for electricity, this does not mean that it is reliable. The light bulbs only work half the time, and the wall sockets do not work at all. My organizations new offices are in the same building as my house, so they are extremely adamant about having the power being completely functional by the time of the office switch. This means that the electrician is to come over to my house and fix everything that is wrong.

If only it were so easy.

The electrician, as I’ve recently discovered, can always be found at one of the local drinking establishments. He is always late, if he decides to show up at all. The first time he came over late, he told me that he knows electricity so well that he could even fix my house drunk. Then he touched an exposed wire and shocked himself. Luckily there was some alcohol in his system to ward off any permanent injury.

He was to come back the next day to finish the “work” that he had begun. I waited around my house for him all day reading a book, but he never showed. Nor did he show the next day. Or the next day.

My co-workers were getting frustrated, since his not showing up was delaying our office transfer. Finally, I see the electrician. He is trailing my co-worker, who is holding an Eagle Beer. They come into my house, the Eagle is given to the electrician, and he gets to work. It only took him about 45 minutes to fix everything in the house and to get it all up and running. I told him that it’s amazing how much he can accomplish once he has an Eagle Beer in his hand. He replies, by telling me that the Eagle Beer gives him the eye of an eagle (because he only has one eye), able to see very small things at long distance and with crystal clear accuracy; and that was how he was able to fix things so quickly. The eye of an Eagle (singular).


New Office
With the electricity a go, we transferred our things from the old office to the new office. Now it’s only a 3 second walk from my door as opposed to the excruciatingly long 2-minute walk I had before. Thank goodness for the convenient switch.


Dear Amber, a previous white mid-20’s female Peace Corps Volunteer:

I want to thank you for making quite an impression on the people and children of Kaberebere, Uganda. They just think the world of you and your name. Since my arrival, the children have continuously paid tribute to you by refusing to acknowledge that I am a completely different person, thus having a different name. Thanks for all that you’ve done.

Sincerely,
Jenny Everett, PCV
AKA: Amber