david's blog

 
12:50 A.M. I’m awoken by a scratching coming from behind my dresser. On previous occasions, I had successfully made it through the night by listening to my CD player with headphone. If you can’t hear them, then they might not be there. At least that was the philosophy that I adhered to until my batteries all died and I was without any good method to block the noise. Using the headphones without music helped a little, but the mice (which actually turned out to be one mouse) can actually make a lot of racket. I’ve had enough; he is going to die.
My time in Kabou was nearly up to four months and I hadn’t had a single problem with mice or anything for that matter messing with my stuff, but apparently it only takes leaving town for a longer period of time and not closing all trash and food containers completely.
I spent the second week of December in Lomé to celebrate the “swearing-in” ceremony for the new Girls’ Education and Natural Resource volunteers, followed by a quick stint in Accra that made me bug-eyed for 48 hours. All in all, the trip amounted to about 8 days away from Kabou in which I had accidentally left my trash can slightly opened, releasing the odor of instant mashed potatoes packages and tomato sauce residue on the little baggies left-over after buying street food.
The first night back in my own bed was supposed to be one of immense relaxation following nights in hotels and on Peter’s couch in Kara, but in reality it would be haunted by the fear of a mouse crawling on top of my body. Maybe I shouldn’t have really cared, but it’s the uncertainty of the mouse’s actions that makes it hard to sleep. Throwing him off my bed sheet and hitting him off my forehead could be described as just two unlucky incidents throughout the night.
The next night, I decided to shut the door to my bedroom and contain the area containing the pests. It seemed like a good idea at the time because all evidence remaining was in my kitchen and spare room: half eaten tablets of Pepto-Bismol, Jolly Ranchers strewn across the floor, and feces in my magazine basket. Tonight, I would have wonderful Melphlaquin enhanced dreams uninterrupted by the shenanigans of a mouse. Little did I know, he was now trapped in my bedroom with me.
At 12:50 A.M., it became obvious we were in the same room and it definitely was not big enough for the two of us. This would need to be resolved right away. I decided to climb out from under my mosquito net, a.k.a. mouse net, put on my closed-toe shoes, and find a suitable weapon to bring tranquility back to my bedroom. The great battle, man versus beast, would last for roughly 30 minutes during which I chased the damn mouse all around my room.
The first weapon of choice was the Kabou site notebook, a quality hard-cover three-ringed binder loaded with quarterly reports of the two former inhabitants of this mouse infested home. It would have worked great if I had only managed to strike the little guy with my throws, but he was just too fast. Furthermore, he likely knew my room better than I did. I only slept there, yet he busied himself throughout the day and night as he pleased, munching on my earwax and simultaneously destroying the padding of my “earbud” headphones. The notebook failed miserably save the high level of noise I had created in the early morning.
I decided it would be easiest to trap the mouse under my hamper basket and then decide on an execution method when it came to that point. This method was destined to fail from the beginning because my basket was handmade from palm leaves, leaving plenty of escape routes even when turned upside-down.
At this point, I was at a loss for how to kill the little devil. He would even find the courage to stop on top of my clothes or on my shelf to look right in my eyes. He knew he would be dead soon. Shutting my bedroom door before crawling in bed gave me the advantage I needed to win this battle. We continued the duel onto my bed, under my bed, behind my guitar case, and among all my training materials until he stopped to hide between my official Peace Corps issue medical kit and the wall. When I slammed the plastic med kit against the wall, he managed to utter two quick squeaks before I squeezed all the air out of his lungs. My work was finished. I was victorious. Before crawling triumphantly back into bed, I took a quick photo to crown my achievement.