Incredibly, the day after I wrote the blog post about the snake, I discovered a scorpion in our toilet! The room, not the bowl.
This is a source of endless debate between my Very Own Newfoundlander and myself. Toilets that is, not scorpions. He maintains that a toilet is just the bowl and the room should be referred to as a Wash Room. This. I admit, is at least a step up from the American term Bathroom. I refuse to accept that a room without a bath can deserve that very specific title. But similarly I protest that a room with only a toilet, as we have here in Paga, – the sink is in the hallway – surely cannot be a washroom as no washing occurs within its walls. When he recently informed me that he was off to use the washroom while walking in a field recently I just had to laugh, imagining hidden plumbing behind a baobab tree – the bark decked out with a mirror and fresh towel waiting, hanging crisply over a nearby stalk of maize.
But I digress – a scorpion – yes indeed, a scary, vicious looking monster. Lurking in our dimly lit room where people go to relieve themselves. As I walked in I saw something scuttle behind the bucket of water we use to flush. It was so quick and noisy as it scampered that I assumed it was a cockroach or some species of frog. Neither option bothered me enough to postpone my business and so I merrily continued until it was time to flush. I lifted up the bucket, revealing the identity of the imposter, and thus began the meanest stare off I have ever participated in. It was ugly. It was enormous. It was a spider. It was an ugly enormous spider exhibiting two weapons cocked and ready, one at either side of the eyes that were glaring at me. We both stood our ground, each undoubtedly out of fear. Granted I was much larger but felt distinctly unarmed with nothing but an empty bucket to defend myself.
And so I slowly stepped on the toilet – the bowl, not the room – never once taking my eyes off my potential killer. I yelled for MVON to come quickly. I didn’t even mention what room I was in – there was no time for semantics, no matter how right I was. He simply had to follow the sound of my shrieks.
Find me a weapon – quickly I ordered. Preferably something that might give me the advantage over the two pistons of poison aimed in my direction I thought. MVON fled and the stare-off continued, each of us rooted to our respective positions – neither willing to concede any territory. Deciding that my back-up was taking far too long and this cold war missile crisis needed to reach a solution I grabbed the only object within reach – a toilet brush. And summoning all the bravery I never knew I had – I plunged. Over and over again pounding the body of the biggest, most threatening spider I had ever seen. This was no toilet duck – it was a venomous monster and it was clear that there could only be one survivor.
Death by toilet brush – it has to be one of the most undignified ways for your existence to be brought to a close. Disgusting – on so many levels – but ultimately successful. We had a victor and I triumphantly dismounted the bowl.
Instantly I ran to my faithful Kindle to investigate an identity line-up of killer spiders of Ghana. Within a few minutes of frantic googling I had uncovered a picture of my late nemesis. Pride in my warrior prowess grew enormously when I read that it wasn’t even a spider but actually a scorpion. A Tailless Whip Scorpion to be exact! I battled a scorpion – and won. Little old me – who knew I had it in me?
And then the next line deflated my ego mercilessly. The Tailless Whip Scorpion is perfectly harmless to humans.
I turned off my kindle in disgust and with a sense of shame and regret for having massacred an innocent creature. Nobody needs to know that part of the story I decided. The squashed arachnid did not have a monopoly on being taleless.
We eventually calmed down enough to go to bed – leaving the monstrous corpse where it was so we could impress people the next day.
But in the morning when we woke it had disappeared. No trace whatsoever. Had something eaten it during the night? A peckish lizard? A rodent with a curious culinary taste? Or had he somehow managed to come back to life – as happens in all horror movies and was currently plotting its revenge? Maybe it gave off a special death scent and ten of them came to collect him and are planning an attack suggested MVON.
Well so what I decided – my kindle assured me it was harmless – and I repeated the phrase over and over every time I needed to use the toilet – all the while ensuring I was within easy reach of the deadly toilet brush. The toilet is now a potential battle field – both the bowl AND the room.
Conortje 