Batters Up

My only experience with a bat, thus far in life, has been with a ball and glove involved or once when our family was on a vacation in Maine. The cabin we were renting had a bat living in the attic. My Mom rounded us kids up and we ran to the car for refuge while my Dad scurried around the house with a broom until he emerged victorious, forcing the bat to fly away. It never occurred to me that bats would live in my house here in Africa…side note: I moved into my house the pit latrine was dug! I can deal with the two-dozen spiders, the lizard, the frog, the mice, the chicken, and the teenage neighbors (some would consider them pests) that battle me for home ownership but the bat, I can’t handle.

The first night I heard the sound that was unmistakably the fluttering wings of a bat and yet somehow I was able to ignore it. It is impressive what the mind can choose not to acknowledge. The second night as I was reading by candlelight I could feel the fluttering as the bat brushed by my head. Ahhh! It is impressive what the body will not allow your mind to ignore. Cowardly I turned out my light, tucked in my mosquito net extra tight and hid under the covers like a child afraid of the dark. The wings were taunting me all night long. I didn’t sleep much because I was fearful the bat would some how get stuck in my hair…I have never wished for a hair tie more in my life. I have plenty but it would require me leaving my mosquito net refuge. Why did I wear my hair down? Tonight as I go to bed I have my hair tied tight, a bandanna on my head, and a broom next to the bed. Looks like I am in the Batter’s Box (the puns could really go on for a while).

Oh, and thanks Dad for teaching me to swing a bat or in this case swing at a bat.