The Snake

I've got a snake in my bed.
It would be nice if it were a lover waiting for me there when I come home from work, but alas, there really is a snake in my bed.

Some days, within the quietness of small town living, life feels like a whirlwind. While my co-workers are busy with all the stuffy language of USAID project proposals and fighting for a piece of the multimillion-dollar pie, I am busily trying to finish writing up the human rights abuses that have been documented in Burma over the year for the chapter on women. All of us are busy interviewing applicants for the teaching position at the school next year as well as conducting entrance exams for new students. Added to this, starting on Monday, every time I leave my house, I am going to have to face getting covered in water. Thai New Year celebrations are beginning soon. In most cities in Thailand, the water fights are relegated to one or two streets, or the area near the river or water. In Mae Sot, we celebrate Burmese style, with the whole town becoming a free for all for a full week. If you leave your house, you should prepare to get soaked. Also, it is necessary to wear the brightest, ugliest, tackiest shirt you can possibly find. To help you out on this front, a whole wealth of stalls have popped up around town flouting their Hawaiian-style wares. I personally acquired a lovely red/orange/yellow/green flowered chemise that is all the rage in Water Festival fashions this year.

Although we have spotted a few cars with the tell tale splashes on their usually dusty exteriors, for the most part, we have a few dry days left. So this morning, bright and all too early, we headed out to one of the nearby refugee camps to do another intake exam. I woke up to the sound of my new "Hello Kitty" pink alarm clock telling me in a chirpy voice "Wake up! Wake up! Goooooood Morning!" I woke up, but I did not have a good morning. Perhaps it was the confusion of the million things that need to be done before I can take my beach vacation, perhaps it was evil vibes from the pink Kitty - I managed to leave my insulin vials in the fridge. I bought the cold packs with me, of course, but had nothing that needed to be kept cold. And, in the brilliant vein with which I started my day, I realized my error when I finished my breakfast and had just arrived an hour down the road in Mae La, the biggest camp on the border.

The intake exams weren't great. More than half the people who showed up didn’t meet the basic requirements of becoming a student at our school. But there were one or two bright stars in the bunch, and that's who we are looking for.

I spent the whole ride back trying to keep my eyes open and looking forward to my needle and fix. The truck pulled up at my house so I could grab my drugs and we spotted a big sign on my door:

JEN: DO NOT GO INSIDE YOUR HOUSE. A LARGE SNAKE WENT IN! I got keys from our landlady and a posse of Thais went in to get the snake but no one really dared to go into your upstairs rooms to find it. It went in under your front door. We searched all downstairs but suspect it went up.

My neighbor's door is locked, and clearly he has evacuated his building and left me this warning. I started swearing. I had been almost five hours without my insulin and needed some, stat. Brooke looked nervous and suggested a pharmacy in town. The driver, once the situation was explained, didn't see a problem going in with me, so in we went. He made me go first, and followed behind with a large stick. I think I lack the basic understanding of the danger presented by the snake. If someone had said that there was a black bear in my house, that would be a different story, something I could relate to. On the other hand, it isn't likely that a black bear would be any good at hiding in anyone's house. In we went.

I opened the big roller door that enters into my garage and stepped back quickly. Brooke waited in the car. Patrick watched us from a safe distance. Which makes one wonder: what is a safe distance anyways? Snakes are speedy suckers, I figure. Not like I have ever been face to face with a "large" one. Now I've got one for a bedmate.

The furniture, (what little I have) was in the middle of the room and things were a bit everywhere. It looked just as you would imagine a room might if a "posse of Thais" had come through it looking for a snake. My Thai wandered around behind me with his big stick. I crept inside, trying to look all around me all at once. Nothing moved or lurked or curled up anywhere so I grabbed my insulin and got out.

But now I wonder, when is it safe for me to go back?