It sounded like the crinkling of paper or the pitter-patter of rainfall. The staccato nature of the noise was just broken enough to disrupt my REM cycle. My eyes opened slowly and I groggily rolled over on my twin mattress trying to make out shapes and shadows in the dark. Fumbling, I managed to find my cell phone and click it on to generate a source of light. Pitter-pitter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
What was that noise?
Training the cell phone flashlight outward, I peered between the tightly woven mesh of my mosquito net tucked into the corners of my bed. There on the outside of my net deliberately crawling upward toward the ceiling was the largest ant I'd ever seen; almost as long as my pinky finger. Ah well, I thought, a giant ant! He'll just join the array of roaches, moths, spiders, crickets, lizards, and termites that regularly invade my house due to the numerous open spaces in the roof and under the doors. Then a little more of the sleepy fog lifted from my mind and I registered this thought: one ant could not be making that pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter noise.
“...one ant could not be making that pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter noise!”
Somewhat apprehensively, I rotated the light on my phone to the ground like a helicopter searchlight. Hundreds upon hundreds of ants large and small were skittering across my bedroom floor. In some places their shiny black bodies were so tightly packed together that they had completely obscured the brown and white pattern of the mat that served as my floor covering. Scurrying back and forth across the ground, they seemed totally oblivious to my presence in stalwart pursuit of whatever it was they were searching for. The sight of this swarm of unabashed insects storming my room felt like something out of a horror film.
Distraught and slightly revolted by what I was seeing, I wanted nothing more than to tuck my mosquito net a little tighter into the corners of my bed, turn off my light, and try to pretend these awful creatures weren't completely taking over my house. I rolled over on my pillow contemplating whether or not that was a feasible option and as I did I felt the tiniest prick on my arm. Light back on, I saw that the bold and enterprising soldier ant previously on the outside of my net had found a weak link in my mesh armor and breached my fortress.
Well, now I had no choice. Clearly, we could not co-exist; it was them or me and I didn't plan on being eaten alive by a million ants.
Steeling my courage, I rolled over, crushing the offending ant in the process, then swept his insect body onto the ground as a warning to the marshaled troops on the ground. "I took out your general, creepy ants. And I'm coming for you next!
The next hour was spent doing battle against the creatures and I must say, they fought hard. Swallowing my revulsion and focusing only on the necessity of the task in front of me, I employed every tool in my arsenal. My weapons were my straw broom which I initially used to whack, smash, and sweep as many of them out of my room and out the back door as possible. I also attacked with a spray bottle loaded with water and lavender essential oil which I had read was a way of confusing ants powerful olfactory senses. Nearly exhausted but having routed most of the ants, I employed one last substance as a barricade against further attack. Grabbing a plastic container from my kitchen, I went outside and squeezed through the makeshift wooden fence leading to my landlady's yard. Using my phone light, I crept into her outdoor kitchen and scooped piles of wood and charcoal ash into my plastic container. Back at my house, I liberally sprinkled the ash around my door, window, and even inside my room in the corners and in front of my bed. Many weeks prior, my landlady showed me how to use this unlikely substance to deter ants. Tired, hands covered in ash, floor littered with ant carcasses, and house smelling strongly of lavender, I couldn't help but smile wearily at the bizarre nature of this experience.
When I signed up to be a Peace Corps volunteer, one word came up over and over throughout the application, interview, and training periods prior to the beginning of service; resilience. It was used so often that it became a buzzword amongst us volunteers. Crawling back into bed and tucking my mosquito net in once again, I registered an appreciation for the endless emphasis on resilience. I had come as a guest to this country to hopefully make a contribution by teaching English, by sharing my stories, my values, and my culture and to be educated, in turn, by living daily life in a context so different from the one I had known for the previous 25 years of my life. It has now been well over a year since I was evacuated from my service due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Returning to the United States amidst numerous crises, I often think about my experiences in Rwanda and wonder if resilience is something I took with me there or something that I brought back. These days I sleep in a large and comfortable bed behind secure doors and sealed windows. But the constant pitter-patter, pitter-patter of my thoughts cannot be barred by walls and windows alone.
“the constant pitter-patter, pitter-patter of my thoughts cannot be barred by walls and windows alone.”
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter-- I grapple with the grief of a lost loved one. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter -- I try to reign in the fear for my 17 year old brother moving to the mid-west for college and what his experience will be like there as a black man. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter - I regret looking at instagram and discovering the news of another black or brown body desecrated by white power and disregarded by white apathy. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter -- I ponder illness and brokenness in my family. Sleep does not come easily most nights and dreams are of little comfort. Laying in bed I think back to that time in Rwanda when every day and night presented new challenges and with them new opportunities for growth. Somehow I found a way forward knowing that whatever the new day presented I had the privilege to wake up in a country of heroes. I was fortified by the knowledge that my neighbors and students and friends found ways to move forward despite being daily haunted by their past and uncertain of their futures. Since returning to the US, there are many days when existence alone feels like a herculean task and my sources of strength feel inadequate.
As a write, a light summer rain falls outside and the sun peers through the clouds drawing me out of this reflection and urging me toward action. So, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and plant my feet on the ground. I whisper a prayer of gratitude and a supplication for strength. Then I get to work sweeping away invasive thoughts and crushing self-defeating habits. I spend a few minutes in meditation to clear my mind and settle my spirit. And, I connect to others who share insights from their own journeys that inspire me to continue courageously on my own. For now, it is enough.