Milkyway tears
Its night time and you are watching the Milkyway from the comfort of your veranda. There’s a moment; a beautiful moment: sublime and poetic, when for just an instant you are poked violently with a realisation of your insignificance in the grand scheme of things. There is infinity swirling above you and here you are; a nothing, a weasly-measly speck of dust called Wasim, whilst above you swarm Gods and aliens and Galactic empires. The thought leaves you wiping away tears. You wish you were somebody else. You wish you were some place else. As your tears dry something scuttles in the corner of your veranda. You peer into the darkness; parting away nights curtain, to see what it is. At first it appears as an opaque black mass against a slate grey background. Is it a chicken? No, it's not moving a la chicken style - chickens have that abrupt pecking motion. This featureless shadow appears more sullen and morose in its habits. You peer closer. Suddenly it springs and jumps onto the veranda wall, exposing its profile against a velvety sky. You can make out the outline of its whiskers, a stubby nose and a furry back. Oh, it's only a rat. What were you thinking? There was nothing to be afraid of after all!
****
Operation bed-time
The thing is Muang Gnoi Neau (MGN) is in the heart of the Laos jungle. And since you're in MGN you too are; ipso facto, in the jungle. So what does that mean? It means that the only way in or out is via the river; twice daily a river boat ply's between Nong Khiaw (the nearest settlement with a road link) and MGN; shuttling people and essential cargo. The river is the artery here that giveth life. MGN has a population of 700 souls and you've since realised that they must breed amongst themselves – for there's no other way in as the village is surrounded by mountains. There is no electricity in MGN. There is no entertainment. There is nothing. Nothing to do after 7pm 'cept go to bed and ponder why you are here. But preparing for bed is a military operation in itself. The bed has no mosquito nets you see, so you have to cover yourself totally in a blanket; ensuring that there are no routes of entry; no paths of invasion for anything that goes bump or buzz in the night.
As you ponder inside your blanket, wrapped up tight and mummified, you can hear the pesky mosquito buzzing on the other side. It can sense you. It knows you’re there and it struggles to find a way in. You know it can’t get in because you’ve cut off all entry points. You raise a smile at your success and with a look of contentment (that nobody can see) you doze off to the maniacal buzzing outside.
Next morning you wake up, look in the mirror and receive a nasty shock. Your face has become an anagram of raised splodges and bumps. There's not a patch of skin that has not been prodded by that blasted mosquito. It must have found a weakness in your defences and got in! Damn it! You sulk off to breakfast, grinding your feet, wishing you were some place else. You ask the proprietor of the Guest House, whether she has a mosquito net. She looks at you as if you’ve made a request for a Hamburger and Fries with extra mayo.
****
Jungle Economics
One of the most remarkable things (and this is something one only appreciates when one is here), is the sheer amount of life in evidence here. Every cubic centimetre of the jungle has something growing on it, something burrowing in the soil or scavenging off the surface. When you spy the tree line from the vantage point of the muddy river bank you are astounded by the sheer amount of living matter. It's a scramble for light: trees and plants twisting and curling over one another; some strangling each other with vines, all trying to outpace and outgrow one another; so that they may absorb the energy of the sun that is necessary for photosynthesis.
[Science Lesson] Photosynthesis is the process by which living things on our planet harness the energy of the sun - the energy is then passed downstream via the food chains.
And in the jungle it is a struggle; a veritable riot in fact, to harness this energy - for all life depends on it. And life has found many means, many professions you might say, of obtaining this energy. Some organisms eat dead things. Some eat living things. And some even suck the blood of living things...
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When you’re stuck in bed under the canvass of your sheet you have plenty of time to think. I think if I was a mosquito I'd be ashamed of myself. Oh yes, I'd be ashamed. Isn’t there something ignominious and cowardly about sucking the blood of another being?:
Oh yeah, let others do all the hard work, let them struggle to find food and water, and we'll just wait, and when they’re not watching, we'll just jump on their skin, insert our syringe and suck out what we need.
Shameful! As a human I say we make a stand! I say my blood is mine! It belongs to me and me only (unless I donate it of course). My blood is not a free for all blood bank. Nor is it something I’ve acquired for free. I’ve spent money, hard earned money, on good food and drink so that blood may flow in my veins. For a mosquito to come along and siphon it off amounts to pure theft! It's like going around a street with a spout and canister in your hand siphoning off petrol from parked cars. It’s just not on! And what do you get in return for your blood? A ‘Thank You’ note? No. I’ll tell you what you get. Malaria!
And which idiot was it that said there is no such thing as a free lunch? There is if you're a mosquito.
