Creepy Crawlies

When I included "Never set your tent up on an anthill" in my list of things I had learned, I was not speaking from experience, but from something I witnessed. The night we spent in Chobe National Park (on a campsite sitting tantalizingly on the grounds of a 5 Star Resort) two of the girls ended up sleeping in the truck, because they were infested with tiny little beasties. In the morning I found that we had them too, but on the outside, and I nearly poisoned my poor tent mate, Raiding them out.

(I should clarify that both "beasties" and "creepy crawlies" are part of our daily vernacular, because Daisy is absolutely terrified of anything that crawles, and fits in through small spaces-- like the flaps of our tents).

It turns out I did not learn this lesson as well as I had hoped. To my credit, ever since that night I have been checking for ant holes (they are not hills here, but holes) before I set up the tent, but quite often we don't arrive at the campsite til after dark, when it is not easy to see the offending gullies.

Since the beginning of this segment (from Vic Falls to Dar es Salaam) my new tent mate and I have had only one night of undisturbed sleep. There have been a wide variety of reasons for this, which I will try and get into later. For now I will tell you about one particular night --my personal favourite (sense the sarcasm?)-- which we spent at a camp on the outskirts of a mid-sized town in Zambia.

Actually it's ironic that this night turned out to be so eventful, as the campsite we had stayed at for 3 days prior (outside of South Lawanga National Park, a place called Flat Dogs) was by far the most heart-attack-inducing place we had yet stayed, complete with elephants interrupting our dinner and a hippo scratching himself against our truck. But this night was by far the worst, for me at least.

I wake up, it's dark, which doesn't tell me much as I have gotten quite used to getting up for breakfast before sunrise. Much as I do every night here, repeatedly, I roll over on my very very uncomfortable sleeping mat and shut my eyes: only 5 (4, 3, 2, etc.) hours til morning! But this time my eyes won't close. Something is not right.

I am itchy and my ears are echoing with this awful sound --something between a kettle boiling and the squeal of a balloon when you stretch it across your fingers. Whatever it is, it is coming from somewhere eerily close to me, almost inside of me, and it made my head spin. I couldn't tell you why, but it was the sound that got me up.

So I check my alarm clock, and learn it is 3:30 AM. As quietly as I can I step over my sleeping tent mate (who is only with us for the Vic Falls-Dar es Salaam section, and has had more than her fair share of adventure/struggle in just those few weeks, mostly due to malaria-pill-induced nightmares and the fact we can't seem to make it through a night without some sort of catastrophe... okay that word may be a tad extreme) and stumbled out to one of the 3 blocks of badly-lit bathrooms, to look in the mirror.

I am covered in ants. And I don't just mean there was one or two on me and that was uncomfortable, I mean I was covered with creepy crawlies, and it was the first time in my life I have fully grasped the aptitude of that name (other than one unmentionable night in Bangkok... definitely another story!). From a foot away I could see the little bastards on my clothes, on my arms, on my hair... especially on my hair.

My first instinct was to scream, but thankfully my second --get these things off of me-- seemed more urgent, and I spent about 20 minutes soaking my hair in the sink and brushing ant bodies out of my clothes. Then I had to deciede what to do about my tent mate. Should I wake her? Should I just go to the truck, and sleep there? Maybe they've left her alone... and she would not appreciate being woken up at 4 AM nothing. But I know this makes no sense.

I go back to my tent and try to think how to phrase what I have to say. I turn on my flashlight, and try not to look at the back wall of the tent which seems to be moving of its own accord. "Hey!" I say. She sits up immediately, probably wondering if we are under hippo siege or hyeana attack... or possibly wondering where she is and I'm shaking her. "The tent is filled with ants," I say, as calmly and clearly as I can be, in this particular situation.

Did I mention my tent mate is Russian? And though her English is 1000 times better than my Russian will ever be... "Huh? Dentist?" she replies. "Ants!" I say, "The tent is filled with ants-- look!" and I shine my torch on the place where I have been sleeping, and be both jump backwards at once. The coat I have been using as a pillow has become an anthill, it's original colour not even visible beneath the squirming mass. She whimpers.

We wake up Anna, our leader, in our efforts to get into the truck (she sleeps on the roof, and can sense movement a mile away). "Try to be a bit gentle, mate!" she calls down from the roof when she realizes we're not burglars. "We have ants," I say, "Oh," she says, "Then you're allowed to make some noise." I locate the bug spray from one of the inumerable hidden compartments in the floor, and head back towards the tent. "Where are you going?" says my tent mate. "Carnage," I say, "To create carnage!" And that is exactly what I do. We slept on the truck... and I use the term "slept" in the loosest possible sense.

The next night we get into the tent, sweep out a few bodies, and lie down to sleep. "Good night!" says my tent mate. "Don't let the bed bugs bite!" I reply, and have to cover my face with both hands to stifle the laughter.

N.