The Ants Go Marching

It is lunchtime, and my water glass has run dry. I stroll into my ‘kitchen’ for a refill. There, I am met by hundreds of ants. These are not the itsy-bitsy sugar-seeking critters that are known to ruin picnics. No, these are monster omnivorous ants that make a machete-wielding scorpion executioner (yours truly) shriek in panic. The floor, walls, and roof are crawling with a blanket of six-legged trespassers. I notice my ñame, a delicious tuberous vegetable, under siege and attempt a rescue, tip-toeing my way through the trenches. As my hand closes around the prized ñame, a burning sensation explodes from my fingers to wrist. The little monsters bite! I fling my prized veggie out the window and drown my blazing hand in my glass of water.

Cuko the fearless fuzz ball cowards under my bed. I send out a frantic text message to fellow Peace Corps Volunteers: ‘Hundreds of crazy fierce biting ants have invaded my house. Appear to be holding a convention in my roof. Running dangerously low on bug spray. SOS.’ Kate replies: ‘Make a decoy trail with sugar. Throw water on them.’ However, they’ll have nothing to do with sugar, and they are undeterred by water. I decide reconnaissance is the next best plan of action.

Some ants are returning from their lofty convention with a scorpion in tow. Just as quickly as they stormed my house, their descent begins. Once on the ground they continue up the hill carrying off any unfortunate critter that was not fast enough to escape their grip. Within a couple hours, the last of the army has passed through, and my house is vacated minus the lost straggler that would bite my unsuspecting foot. In the evening, the ants go marching down the hill, over the wood pile, and through my bathroom, calling it a day. Hurrah!

Rufino´s pet capuchin, Fotín

The ants´ascent

Swarming about

sorry, you´ll have to turn your head to watch