Cobra

It’s snake season in Kecheibi. I started noticing them about a month ago. Small green snakes squirming under logs and big dark shapes vanishing in the grass. Maybe it’s the colder nights, I see them basking in the late afternoon on foot paths and rocks. A few weeks ago a volunteer in a neighboring village woke up to the thud of rocks on her door and the violent barking of her dog. That’s her story to tell but the long-short of it is there was a Cobra hanging out on her stoop. This sort of thing has happened before; earlier this year a volunteer in my district managed to kill a cobra and a green mamba in his bedroom. Its obvious to me these serpents are crying out for attention. In a country that is positively slithering, young cobras have little elbow room when it comes to being noticed. It’s pathetic really. Last week I had my own visitor, a young black cobra, maybe only five or six feet long, waiting on my stoop. He was no doubt hoping I would let him in. Every time I cracked the door open for a better look at him he would stare back at me with an expectant look. This sort of behavior is normal for adolescents, no doubt he was abandoned by his parents at a very young age – I would be surprised if he ever even knew his own father. But even with troubled youth –especially with troubled youth- you have to be firm. I grabbed my machete (known locally as a cutlass –which I prefer because I sound like a pirate when I say cutlass) and a frisbee which I quickly drew eye-spots on (I wasn’t sure yet whether or not it was a spitting cobra, they aim for your eyes) and charged out the front door, hoping to surprise and corner him. But he was a little quicker than I gave him credit for; he darted over to the compost heap and out of sight. I went back inside and collected myself. But before long the stranger was back at his post, practically begging for my attention. Well, like I said you have to firm, firm and unrelenting, that’s the only way to get through to them. I made a second charge, brandishing the underside of my frisbee with a menacing look on my face, and followed him into the long grass. I haven’t seen him since. I’m not proud. In fact I feel a little empty inside. Maybe I’ll be easier on the next one, you know let him in for a while, make some coffee or something.

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