Just Another Night in Sierra Leone
The hills at dawn
Okay – I’ve said it before and undoubtedly will say it again: Stephen misses all the fun. He’s away for a few days, I’m here alone, and inevitably something out of the ordinary happens. Like the time four men attempted to challenge the dogs and come on the property at one in the morning – two nights in a row! The dogs won both nights but . . . well, that’s another story for another time. Fortunately I learned a long time ago the value of humor and the ability to laugh at myself. A merry heart can be a real sanity saver here and I try to approach tense situations with a sense of adventure and humor.
Last night at 12:45 I was awakened by the dogs viciously barking and it was enough to give me concern that it involved people rather than an animal or the owl which lurks around the chicken coop hunting for mice. Of course I wouldn’t go outside but I did investigate through the bars on the kitchen window, shining my flashlight out into the dark night. The dogs quickly calmed down but then I heard Alfred involved in a loud argument. By the position of his light I could tell he was some distance from his house across the way. So I ventured out and sat on the veranda for a while but couldn’t make out enough to know what was happening. Perhaps he was confronting a would-be thief; I would find out in the morning. But now we come to the real story.
Thusly wide awake, I returned to bed to read. After about an hour, I heard a noise outside in the soffit just above our window. Probably mice getting into the attic. There’s no way to stop them so we just tolerate them as the “noisy upstairs neighbors”. Next, banging and bumping from said neighbors; nothing new or alarming there either. Two days ago Stephen needed to access the attic for a wiring repair and, as he typically does, he neglected to return the access panel. The upstairs banging and bumping stopped briefly but then resumed it’s erratic cadence “downstairs”. The mystery creature had come through the ceiling opening and I was now sure who midnight visitor was – A bat! And upon investigation, sure enough, there was the little creature hanging on the wall in our pantry area. “Okay,” I told him, “No problem, you stay out here and I’ll shoo you out in the morning; I’m going back to bed to read.” It was now two o’clock. After some more smashing and crashing into things, the bat decided to venture into the bedroom. He proceeded to take up his place on the mosquito net occasionally darting about and returning to the netting. I’m not afraid of bats but this one was surely acting oddly. It could not fly without smashing into the walls and ceiling and its head was twitching and shaking – perhaps from repeated impacts, perhaps from illness. The concern then became that this creature would get inside the ill fitting mosquito net. Now that would be a sight! So I decided I must rid myself of my new friend and went to fetch the broom. When I returned, however, he flew out of the room, or so I thought. A scan of the house showed no sign of my fury winged visitor; maybe he went back upstairs. I went back to bed to read.
As I was about to slip under the netting, I gathered up the side of the multi-colored cloth which serves as my tent door. I then jumped with startled realization that I had found the bat; he was clinging to the fabric and I now had him right in my hand! Happily though, he was enfolded in the cloth and couldn’t bite me. I grabbed the broom which I had left next to the bed and quickly brushed him to the floor, trapping him in the thick corn straw. Okay, now what? If I pick up the broom to hit him he’ll escape. With the bat tweeting and beeping, I dragged the broom across the bedroom floor to where I could reach a shoe. Two swift blows and my visitor became my victim. I scooped it up in the dust pan and left it on the veranda table. I’ll put it in the dump hole in the morning, right on top of Tuesday night’s trophy, a five-foot spitting cobra! But . . . that’s another story for another time! It was now 2:45; back to bed for more wide-awake reading.
P.S. This really did happen just as written and even at two in the morning it was hysterically funny. And yes, I really did talk to the bat.
