#jungle problems

Halfway through a science class in grade nine, I found a dead mouse in the bottom of my binder. It was burrowed between the ring and the zipper, and it was awful. Ever since then, my fear of mice/rats has been amplified.

Coming to Madagascar to live in a hut, I knew the reality that I would be sharing my home with many other creatures, and that occasionally that would mean living with mice and rats. Well now that I’m here, it is a reality in my life. The reality is that I wake up most mornings to mouse or rat poop on top of my mosquito net, on my kitchen table and beside my toothbrush. Rats have chewed everything from my favourite spatula, to the screens on my windows, to EIGHT pairs of my underwear. (Yes, I just wrote about my underwear in a blog).

I used to think that when you face your fears, you stop being afraid of them, but I have realized, at least in this case, that is just not true. I face my fear of mice and rats on a daily basis lately- and if anything, I’ve become more scared of them. Some nights have been downright traumatizing. I know logically that it’s really not going to hurt me. My biggest fear is it scampering across my feet. But why is that scary? I have no idea. Because they are gross. Maybe it’s irrational, but that’s how it is.

And honestly, I will continue to be scared every time I hear a random commotion above my bed, or see a little  (or not so little) head pop up from the wall, or when I hear the rustling of a sticky pad that has trapped a mouse. “Is he stuck enough” “Can he get loose” “Should I go look”. Yes, I have done things I never would have done before, and have perhaps become a little more useful. I am able to do more than just stand on the table now, but that is not for lack of fear, it is out of pure necessity.