Mouse Golf

3/18/2008

I’m a killer. A ruthless and heartless killer to all other living things that enter my home without my consent provided I can catch them. Spiders, crickets, cockroaches, beetles, flies, hornets/wasps, ants, (not lizards because they eat the aforementioned) and, of course, mice. Everything except the mice can be disposed of via insecticide, a handy flip flop or if I’m feeling particularly gruesome, my hand. The mice, on the other hand, are the bane of my existence. My roof is tin with a mat ceiling, so there is quite a bit of space between the roof and the ceiling. The mats are old and by their very nature porous. It’s entertainment enough to listen to the filthy rodents scurry over my head while I try to sleep. Mice are nocturnal, which I never fully appreciated until now. What’s infuriating is that I wake up to mouse droppings all over my house: on my desk, on my shelves, on my counters, on my clothes, in my mouth… just kidding. From time to time, the little bastards get up the balls to venture down into the part of my house that I inhabit. This is not okay.

The first time I found a mouse in my house was after a trip (this is usually the case) hiding behind a shelving unit in my bedroom. I stood there wondering what to do. I couldn’t scare it out from behind the furniture because it would just run to the next hiding place and I would have turned my house upside down trying to catch the little f****er. I decided that since the mouse was lodged between the back of the shelves and the wall that I would squish it to death. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to squeeze the life out of the little thief, so I held the shelving unit against the wall till sweat began to trickle down my face. Once I was sure he was dead, I scooped him up and tossed him outside. This first time, I will admit, I felt a little remorse for killing another living creature, but not the second time.

Same situation as before, I came home from a trip and while I was cleaning up the dust mounds that had accumulated in my absence I noticed small, quick movements out of the corners of my eyeballs. This time, it was my kitchen and this mouse and I danced. He tried for the sanctuary of my stove, but I was tenacious. He tried making a dash for my bedroom, but I slammed the door closed on his furry, little snout. I blocked off all possible escapes routes and cornered the intruder. I caught half his body with a Tupperware container and shoved the other half back under it with a few dexterous movements. I caught this one live, and decided that my host-family’s dogs needed a little fun. I showed the two dogs, the mother named Roly and the son named Dit Vrai, the mouse to make sure they were paying attention. Then I hurled the mouse across my family’s courtyard and watched as the dogs ran after the mouse. The dogs don’t eat mice; they just like to toy with them. I stood guard from front of the doors to the bedrooms and every time the mouse tried to run back toward the rooms, I took my dustpan and smacked the mouse back towards the dogs all the while cackling like a lunatic. I think I went a little crazy because I tortured this mouse the way little kids torture snails.

The third time, I found mice in my house. Not mouse, mice. Three baby mice to be exact. It turned out to be a two-day process. The first day, I found them snuggled together in my yoga mat, and I made the mistake of unraveling the mat in order to try to apprehend them. The babies of course scattered and any sort of capture was futile. The next morning, the mice didn’t learn and were back, snuggling in the yoga mat. This time, I very carefully tipped the rolled-up mat into a bucket and dashed out of my house like a bat outta hell. I showed my host-brother, George, and sister, Freesia, my loot. They both grabbed sticks and poked the babies to death, (everyone hates mice here) except for one, which we gave to the dogs.

So far, no other mice have dared to come down into my house, however, I have been out of village for the past 2 weeks, so we’ll see what happens when I get home. The good news is that I will be replacing all the mats in my ceiling since the Medical Officer visited my house and was appalled at my living conditions. I shrugged and said c’est la vie ici au Togo. Everyone has mice problems here.