Don't read this before dinner ... or bedtime!!

 Three weeks in Africa, and already we’ve had some adventures with creepy-crawlies.  I suppose no stint in Africa, regardless of its length, would be complete without them.  Monster centipedes are now old news, and this past week we inadvertently left the bedroom windows open too long past dark and had to kill about 50 big vicious-looking insects flying around the room before we could even think about going to sleep.  But the other night I had a front-row seat to a fascinating and disturbing experience, like the nature channel only less than a foot from my face rather than on a screen. [No, not the amorous kind of nature channel experience … the other kind.]

It gets dark around 7pm here this time of year, so I was doing dishes well after dark.  The wall above the kitchen has a window that faces east, and this window runs the entire width of the room.  An assortment of moths and other bugs congregate on this window after dark, being drawn to it by the light, of course.  It’s all rather ho-hum.  But this particular night I saw a large mantis, about 2” long, sitting on the window at about head height.  It was cool because I’ve never really seen the underbelly of a mantis before.  It was really cool, and I was particularly excited at the possibility of witnessing first hand a little bit of insect cannibalism [it’s twistedly morbid, I know – perhaps there is therapist here who can help].  Actually, I was so excited by this possibility that I was having a hard time getting the dishes done.  But alas, nothing was happening.  The mantis looked more like it was sleeping than hunting.

I was about ready to give up in disappointment, and was, in fact, dutifully turning back to the dishes when a small moth (about ½” long) swooped down into the “danger zone.”  The mantis grabbed the moth in its front legs, and the motion was slow enough that I could actually see it happening.  [This surprised me, I expected that it would be so lightning fast that I wouldn’t be able to really watch it.]  However, the next bit was fairly horrible.

With the moth clamped in its forelegs, the mantis ripped the moth in half, roughly lengthwise – mercifully, because I think the moth died instantly.  So the mantis has a half-moth in each foreleg, and then starts half-eating, half-sucking the flesh out.  Now I don’t know exactly what a mantis mouth looks like, but from my vantage point it appeared like the mantis had four mandibles – top, bottom, right, and left – which made its devouring of this moth appear especially gruesome, almost gluttonous.  The mantis started with the half-moth in its left leg then moved on to the right.  Within three minutes, there was nothing left except two paperish wings, one of which was still stuck to the mantis’ thorax like crumbs clinging to a napkin or something.

It was both awful and awesome at the same time.  Ah, Africa!

Luminaries

[I tried posting this a couple days ago, and my wise and loving wife was concerned about those who know me and might be concerned if they weren't familiar with this particular style of my writing.  One of the skills as a writer that I have been trying to develop is to watch for events that happen in my life, or mental snapshots of a place I am, then see and write the story that is contained in it.  This story was sparked by the thunderstorm that passed through Swaziland last week, and I've also taken a little from an experience I had in Sudan almost ten years ago.  But for those who know me and care about me, this is NOT an autobiographical account of what happened last week!  This is the story of the moonrise on the night after the storm; and the story seeks to delve into what light and darkness mean to us, not simply on the surface, but deep within our souls.  The photo is from our front porch here in Swaziland.]

Yesterday a violent thunderstorm passed through the valley, the wind howling and the heavens dropping pebbles of hail to the earth.  We lost power in late afternoon, and many hours passed by before it could be restored.  As dusk approached and still the lights were not working in the house, anxiety began to swell up inside my heart.  The clouds were low, beneath the hilltops, and once the darkness came, there was no light in the entire valley.

The rattling hum of a generator filled the air, and one little light shone in the darkness.  But when the appointed hour came, the generator gasped its last breath then choked off, for the sake of saving precious dollars of electricity.  Instantly, terror like I have never known gripped me, its tentacles wrangling out from the blackness and wrapping themselves around my very soul.  On my bed, I held my hand before my face, but still all I could see was a vast nothingness.  The night is evil.

I cried out for help, again and again; but the night did not end, nor the fear, nor the helpless blindness.  What if I am attacked?  What if a thief breaks in and steals?  What if I am torn by wild beasts?  I dared not get out of my bed, even to go across the room and get the flashlight.  What if a snake has come under the door?  What if a scorpion hides inside my shoe?

When I am afraid, I will trust in God.  And finally, after a lifetime of nights, I fell asleep.

Tonight, the clouds have lifted, and the full moon rises over the rocky hills.  I see the light, that it is good; and I am thankful -- for the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night.