Cow Killers

I was headed for the Peace Corps Office. I climbed the same forty steps to the overpass and down thirty steps to reach the other side of the street. I’ve done this dozens of times, but today was different. Just after the bus dropped me, and only a few steps from the sidewalk, I noticed a tiny creature crawling in the dirt. I might have missed this little thing had it not been for its brilliant color.


As I watched this little creature make its way in a hurried fashion, I was reminded of years past when John and I would spend so much time on a small detail of nature. There is a meditative feeling that overcomes me when I watch an ant carry food to it's queen or watch a spider spin its web or a squirrel burying a nut, only to be stolen by a sly Blue Jay. I miss having someone to share the details in life.

I stood there looking at this ant when a young man appeared behind me. I risked conversation, “Look at that ant. Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Normally, when I try to converse with strangers, I’m met with silence and strange looks. This is especially true in the city. But today it was different. The young man said, “Now, I’ve lived here all my life and never seen anything like this before. We watched in silence, well into a minute. It was a quiet bond and I found it comforting to enjoy this moment with a stranger.

When I reached home that evening, I Googled the strange looking ant. It is called a Red Velvet Ant or a Cow Killer. It’s unlikely this tiny creature has ever actually killed a cow, but evidently its sting is so painful that it is said if a cow were stung, it would die from the pain.

This creature is not an ant, but a female wingless wasp.

Males look much the same but have wings. It will do no harm if left alone. But there is one more curious thing you should know about this little creature. If you pin the Cow Killer down with a stick or object it will scream. Now isn’t nature amazing!

The Connection

There was an immediate connection. It was telepathic. We knew what each other was thinking. There have only been a few times in my life when I had this type of connection. The first time I felt it was the first time I saw John. It was a moment when time stands still and then things move in slow motion. I instantly knew I would marry him. I could almost hear Robert Flack singing “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”. It was that moment that I fully appreciated the words to her song. I didn’t understand that force then and certainly can’t explain it now, thirty-nine years later. It was a connection, just something I knew.

When my first child was born prematurely, doctors told me he would probably be mentally impaired or worse yet would not live. I looked into his eyes and knew he would be alright. I never worried about him. I often wonder if he knew the same, but of course neither of us will ever know.

There are other less dramatic times when I have experienced a special connection: experiences with friends or family where we know what we are thinking; the moments when we say the same things in unplanned unison. Reactions to those special moments are a giggle, a stare, or even a diversion of the conversation to savor that special moment.

So, although there have been moments like this in my life, none has been as surprising to me as this one. I was reading and it was fairly late in the evening. I could hear the crickets and tree frogs outside my door and the music from the street party a half block away. It was just a typical village evening. I got up to get a glass of water when it happened. This may be difficult to believe, but I assure you I am not making this up.

My kitchen door was open and the screen was closed. The windows were opened and fresh island breeze was swirling around the room. I turned the light on. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement near the sink. I turned and saw him in full view. Fear set in. An intruder had entered my kitchen.

It was there that our eyes met. My first thought . . . “I need a weapon”. I grabbed the broom near the refrigerator. It has a blue handle and hand-painted Disney Tinker Bell characters on it. I proceeded to swing knocking glasses and silverware from the sink and onto the floor. I couldn’t be concerned about breakage at this moment. I would replace anything that may break. At this moment my life was far more important than a little glassware. This was an emergency.

He jumped from the counter and our eyes met again. This time it was different. I stopped swinging and he started telepathically pleading his case for me to stop. For an instant I felt sorry for him. Although he was an intruder and not welcome in my house there was a connection . . . he was really sorry he had made the mistake of entering my kitchen. We were both frightened. He knew it and I knew it. He had no weapon. He was defenseless. The power he had seconds ago was transmitted to me. I was in charge now.

My reaction to his plea is a source of regret. Even though this incident happened a week ago, I think about it every single day. It’s just now that I feel like I can talk about it. Somehow I will make amends in the future.

I did not allow him to persuade me to stop defending myself. No, after a few seconds of telepathic communication I continued my defensive swinging with the broom. I chased him throughout the kitchen. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to send him reeling over the back balcony to his death. I feel guilty for having this feeling. I do like to think of myself as a peaceful volunteer but my instincts were taking over.

The scuffle lasted for what seemed to be several minutes until he found his way out of my kitchen by making his body small and crunching himself under the screen door. I quickly slammed my door and locked it. The last time I saw that roach he stopped momentarily on the porch to look back at me. I swear he was telepathically saying, “it’s going to be ok for both of us now”.

I’ve been on this island for one year now. I think there is something to this disease called, “island fever”. Does anyone think I need a vacation?

Oh, the company I keep

It’s really big. It must weight at least one pound. Ok, maybe not that much, but it’s big. I can hear it when it falls on the floor. It flies too. I don’t know if they fly in California. I’ve never shared my house with a roach before. I won’t be going into my kitchen anytime soon. And, I’m going to sleep with my mosquito net. I’m not going to take any chances with this flying monster.

Ocean Breezes bring Unexpected Surprises

The ocean breeze was too good to resist. It was a beautiful morning. As I had done many times before, I opened my windows and the air flowed through the house. I could clearly see the sea from the bedroom windows and I felt like an “island girl”.

Winter starts around November/December and the breeze here is incredible. It was late last year when I first heard people say they were cold. When it is seventy degrees it’s common to see them shiver when they forget a sweater. I just smile and they say, “I know”. A few days ago, I was sitting on the bench outside the Secondary School. I was there with a few board members of the village foundation. There was a beautiful breeze. I felt cold and I brought the sweater Elaine had given to me. They looked at me and smiled. I said, “I know”.

So when I opened the windows to feel the breeze that morning I put my sweater on and experienced the welcoming breeze throughout the house. Later I realized that the open windows brought more than the fresh island breeze I had enjoyed so many times before. It brought a swarm of mosquitoes and I was dinner. Bottles of Calamine Lotion and cans of Baygone Insect Spray couldn’t compete with hundreds of bites. Sleepless nights, boxes of mosquito coils, ice packs and showers were taking a toll.

This was the first time I seriously thought of throwing in the towel and going home, but not without a fight! I climbed down my stairs and stood on my landlord’s porch shouting “Hello, John? Elizabeth?” That’s what you do here; no one approaches a door to knock. That would be impolite.

John came to the door and I asked him if it would be alright if I hired someone to put screens on my windows. I further explained it would be a small price for me when it comes to comfort. He was clearly concerned. Later that night, his wife Elizabeth, came up and said, “You need screen doors, too! We will have this done right away.”

Elizabeth had the storm drains checked and one of the drains was not draining properly. There was stagnant water just above my bedroom window – the breeding ground for the pesky buzzing creatures that nearly drove me from this island paradise. Knowing my boys are coming for a visit Elizabeth said, “We must get this done before they come.”

Within a week they hired workers who built screens for each window as well as building two screen doors. Nothing ready-made. John inspected the work. He found small gaps and insisted the workers fix them so that no mosquito, no matter how agile and no matter how skilled at maneuvering an obstacle course, could make its way into my apartment.

As I sit here, healing physically and mentally from this experience, I am once again enjoying the morning breeze with every window and door wide open and knowing that my new screens are keeping me safe. I am also wearing my sweater because it is only 72 degrees this morning.

On my way out yesterday, John stopped me and said, “We must put in solar hot water heating so that your sons will have hot showers when they are here”. I responded that they would have no problem with cold showers. Simply amazing!

A Journey too Important to Interupt

A breadcrumb was moving across my floor. I thought it was a gust of wind from my door. On closer inspection I found it to be a tiny ant carrying the weight of the world. It was determined and on an important mission. I didn't interfere with it's journey.

Tiny Corpses

I walked up to the large building called the Multipurpose Building in Micoud. Upstairs is the Village Library and downstairs is a large open room. A stage appears at the far end of the room. On either side are large windows with neither glass nor screens, only bars. This is common here. It’s not because it’s a bad area, it’s because it’s hot and that’s how they construct building for air flow.

There is a small folding table and six folding chairs. This is where we will sit for the next three hours. The new Board of Director’s of the Micoud Foundation is energetic and committed – and very smart. I’m struck by their level of sophistication.

I’m a few minutes late for the meeting. I’ve been in Castries which is an hour and a half from my village. It’s been a full day of training, but I don’t want to miss this opportunity to participate. So, I come to the meeting directly from the bus. They are pleased to see me and appreciate my participation knowing I’m not officially theirs for the next couple of months.

As I listen one woman claps her hands once…then the man claps...and another woman claps. They are not applauding; they are killing mosquitoes. The large man at the head of the table mumbles something under his breath. I look over at the woman next to me and she has a grin of satisfaction on her face. Looking down at the table I see eight tiny corpses. She has a collection of deceased mosquitoes. Crickets sing so loud that they almost drown out the barking dogs. Just as I’m asked a question, a goat peers into the building and begins making goat noises. I have to ask them to repeat the question . . . ah, it’s all in a day’s work.