The Great Rat Race of 2014

It all started in the early afternoon of a hot September day in Amani House. I was home from school because the plumber came to look at yet another problem with the pipes that occasionally bring running water into our home and because Standard 7 was taking the National Exam, during which no teachers are allowed in the school except for the headmistress.

So, there was I was, minding my own business, putting away tools and cleaning up after the successful repair of our waterways, when all of a sudden, I hear a scurrying from the pantry. I haven’t heard this scurry in a while. We knew we had at least one rat in our pantry a few weeks ago, but upon noticing this new housemate, living rent-free and eating our food, we put out a special buffet for him in the form of Supa-Kill, the Dutch rat poison we bought should such a guest arrive unannounced. (I’m not kidding, the name of this stuff is SUPA, as in super, Kill and is complete with toxic warning signs and a picture of a dead rat printed on the bright yellow and red box).

In the last few weeks since presenting our special guest with his feast, we heard no more scurrying…until yesterday. I turned on the light in the pantry to find a long grey tail following the small grey-brown body of our friend, Panya (rat in Kiswahili), down behind the cupboard. In the past I probably would have rolled my eyes in annoyance and hoped that he would eventually just leave or die, since I noticed all the Supa-Kill was gone. But today I was inspired. I grabbed a broomstick (without the broom part at the end), closed the door to the pantry with me and Panya inside, and climbed up on the cupboard with my flashlight and the stick, peering behind it, looking for our house guest.

I spotted him easily and began poking towards him with the broomstick. My initial plan was to scare him out in the open area and, to put it bluntly, whack him to death. Well, two things happened to curtail my clever little plan. One, I realized I would never be at a point where I was comfortable smacking the little guy to death and, two, he was faster (and cleverer) than expected. I found myself chasing him back and forth behind the cupboard for a while.

Then an idea came to me: block either side of the cupboard where he could escape. I set up two very nice little homes from old cans and boxes and wait for him to choose one. His choices were the giant can that used to hold peaches we got as a gift from the Sisters at Gonzaga or a small mail package box that came to us from America, two very suitable homes for such a small creature. After setting up my traps…I mean new living arrangements for our friend…I began chasing him back and forth again until he found his way in to the giant peach can, a good choice considering it was much roomier and probably smelled better than the old musty box. Once he found himself settled in his new quarters, I closed the door on him using a piece of cardboard.

Now it was time to move his new home outside. I asked my community mate to open the door to our gate so as to not take my own hand off the top of the can. Once I got outside the gate, I began walking a little ways from our house so that Panya would not come running back in after me. As I was walking, I began drawing attention, naturally, as people asked themselves why this white girl was holding that giant peach can covered with a piece of cardboard out in front of her with stiff-arms. I saw two girls about my age sitting outside and talking. When they saw me, as I drew closer to them and farther from my own house, one of them asked what was inside.

“Panya,” I responded, to which her immediate reacting was, “Don’t let it go! We have to kill it.”

So, with that, they got up and ran over to the open area where I stood, looking for rocks. The plan was for me to let the rat go and they would throw giant rocks at it. Just as I was preparing to let it go, a man and a woman were walking by, looked at us a little funny and then kept walking. Then another man passed by and nonchalantly asked, “Nyoka au panya?” (Snake or rat?), as if this were a typical goings-on in our neighborhood.

“Panya,” I answered and he prepared himself too with a rock and a stance that meant he was ready to throw.

Finally the time had come for me to release him and instead of running in the direction of the three musketeers armed with stones, he began running down the hill in the direction of the couple that had passed by a few seconds before. It was running right for the woman and as it got closer, she jumped at exactly the right time for it to pass under her feet and her friend to start kicking it. His kicking led the rat to run back up the hill towards us. It ran and he kicked but it still got away.

By that time, the three musketeers abandoned their failed attempt the throw rocks and they went after it in the same style of kicking that the man used on the hill. All of the beatings had certainly slowed the rat down which allowed one of them to simply, and sadly, stomp it to death. And while I find no joy in our having to kill the unwanted visitor, I was able to laugh at the slightly turbulent but communal effort to complete our mission and rid our neighborhood of its tiny intruder.

There was something so normal about six adults chasing the rat down for the sake of the neighborhood. Nobody would have wanted Panya to be their next unexpected visitor so they did what they could together to prevent it. I’m thankful for my neighbors literally jumping in to help and I felt one with them in the great task of catching the little panya.