Killing Badgers

My Dad loves to hunt, but I have never really understood it.

That is, until last night…

I was up late working on the computer when I first heard the wild catlike screams and distressed calls of a compound chicken.

After taking a quick look around the field where I thought the fighting was coming from, I woke up Marafo and let him know that there was a wildcat on the compound.  Humoring me, he got up and followed me over to what had suddenly become a silent field – wouldn’t you know it.

Thinking that the cat had finally left (or that there had never been a cat there in the first place), we both went back to bed. 

However, just as I was settling back in, the commotion started up again.

Though I was tired and wanted to ignore the noise, I knew that I shouldn’t, as even one wildcat can decimate a population of chickens in a single evening.

Rising again, I found Marafo in the field behind our house.  He was standing over the 16 foot hole that will someday be a long drop toilet.  The noises which I had been hearing were coming from inside the hole where not only one, but two, wild badgers and a frightened white rooster were trapped!

While I stood ground over the hole, Marafo ran off to collect his bow and arrows, a spear and machete. 

He returned, grinning from ear to ear, and quickly shot his first arrow into the long drop. 

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am certainly no Katniss Everdeen, and though I earned 12, count them, 12 archery badges at Camp Sweyolaken in the 6^th grade, I am no marks-woman.  However, can I just go out on a limb here and say that it may have been Marafo’s unabashed giddiness which seriously impaired his aim. He somehow managed to miss all three of the stationary animals, which were trapped in the very small hole, right below us.

After this first arrow was lost, Marafo picked up his spear and forcefully threw it into the hole. Though the spear failed to hit its target, it certainly must have done something because no sooner than it was released, the first badger – the really, REALLY BIG one!!! (now, I must sound like a real hunter!) – mustered the strength to run up the 16 vertical feet and out of the hole, turning the tables on the now terrified hunters.

Up until this moment when a crazed, wild badger managed to escape what I had naively believed to be a pretty solid trap, I had really been enjoying my first glimpse into the hunting world.  However, it did not take me too long to discover that big animals, trapped in deep holes is one thing; while big animals, not trapped in deep holes, is a whole different story...

Nevertheless, I was very brave. 

Squealing Marafo’s name, I ran as far and as fast as I could away from that hole and the now free and provoked badger, while frantically, though aimlessly, waving the machete around in the darkness.

After this minor setback, I was instructed to stay way back and to hand over the machete.

Eventually, once we realized that the smaller badger could not escape, I was granted permission to re-approach the hole.

While Marafo bravely did the real hunting, I “helped” with such glamorous jobs as holding the flashlight, collecting rocks and trying to keep both my squeals and giggles to a minimum as to not wake the whole village.

In the end, the white rooster lived to see another sunrise, while the wild badger did not.  We were successful!

I never thought I’d say it, but Dad you win.  Hunting is sort of fun…

Gas, Liquid and Ice in Didinga

With a little help from one of our amazing pilots, a new sensation came to the students of City on the Hill Primary School.

Living in a rural, secluded village near the equator, in a nation which considers 60 degrees to be a major cold spell, means that there are few – hmm, let me rephrase that – almost no opportunities to experience that 3^rd State of Matter, ice.

For those of us growing up in the West, those who are just now folding up their winter sweaters and defrosting from a long hard winter, it may be a bit of a challenge to imagine a world without frosted windshields, sledding hills and icy cold sodas. 

Just as many Americans have never; let’s just say… slept in a smoky mudhut, next to a dead rotting cow, none of our Didinga students had ever experienced ice.

This past term, Mark’s class studied the 3 States of Matter – gases, liquids and solids. The first two states, water and water vapor, were easy enough to physically demonstrate. However, the students were, for good reason, a bit confused by the third state of matter, the solid form of water, ice.

Mark is a pretty amazing teacher. Thanks to his incredible forethought and a scheduled flight which was passing through Nagishot, he was able to do execute a science lesson worth writing home about...  Mark introduced a sensation to our students, the impossibly difficult to describe sensation of extreme cold, the phenomenon of ice.

At first, most students were terrified of the ice.  Sure, they regularly handle red hot coals and boiling pots of water with their bare hands, but the thought of touching a cold block of ice, was a bit too much for them.  

However, as the lesson progressed, the kids became increasingly more comfortable and eventually, the whole group was embracing the cold. Kids were not only licking the the block of ice, but timing how long they could leave their tongues attached to it. 

It didn't take them too long to discover the fun to be had in shoving a very cold piece of ice down the t-shirt of a best friend or little brother.  

When Mark told the group that my family lives in a land which is covered with ice for several months every year, the kids gasped and then began to whisper - "No wonder she moved to Didinga!".