Crickets live with us.
They are about the size of my thumb and all black; they’re loud too, very loud.
There is one that lives above the kitchen and sings in the morning, as well as afternoon, and night. I don’t know how he doesn’t have broken legs yet.
You see, our home has a tin roof that is peaked and then there is a second layer that is flat closer to our heads to make the rooms feel more to human height. The cricket lives in the second layer.
I’d like to spray the second layer with Raid.
I had been up early for a run and decided to try and get in a shower before breakfast. Breakfast is at 7:30, and it was close to 7:20 at this point, but the two showers that we girls share were open and it was the time.
Another squad mate came in to shower as well, so I grabbed the second shower before it was taken. As I popped in, my eyes jerked to the movement on the ground, a thumbed sized cricket crawling from the drain. I was in a hurry for breakfast and just decided to continue the shower now with a friend. The water doesn’t drain well and so the little guy ended up floating around as I hopped on it with my legs. As I turned for better water angles to try and remove some of the African dust with my bar of soap I accidentally kicked Captain Cricket out of his once vast ocean and onto a small ledge. I turned toward him and *swoop* out goes the bar of soap from hand into the air and crushes the almost free Captain on the ledge and *sploosh* back to his watery home he fell.
I don’t know if he survived it; I was done with the shower at that point and hopped out quickly for breakfast – though I hope this blog correctly portrays the perils his young life has gone through. I can’t imagine his perspective and the intensity of the moment for him, but I’m sure if he survived he will have a tale of a lifetime for his friends. I just hope it will be enough motivation for them to move their little legs somewhere else for a while.
