Thursday, July 18, 2013

The Day I Almost Got Eaten by a Crocodile: A Short Story

When I asked if there was anything in the water that could hurt me and she hesitated, I should've known.

Martha habitually took a short walk away from the village to the river we went fishing in to go swimming on Sundays. As it's inappropriate for a woman to venture into the bush alone, she generally was escorted by a gang of national girls who would spend their time swinging off vines and splashing into the water. (It is the jungle.)
But this was just after my fishing experience and I wanted some time of just quiet. So I convinced Martha to sneak off with my instead of summoning her escort. And equally enamored by the idea of not having the squealing clamor of the girls, she agreed and we made it away. 

Slipping into the water, I asked if anything could get me, looking about apprehensively as I sank down to my shoulders and she hesitated. At her less than prompt reply, I stood up abruptly attempting to minimize the amount of me that could be suddenly attacked. 
"Like... snakes?"
I'm not afraid of snakes, per se. I'm afraid of being unexpectedly and fatally attacked. Water snakes just tend to be particularly adept at that. 
"No. No water snakes."
"Piranhas!?!" 
Same principle.
"No. Just, crocodiles swim in these waters. But that's why we brought the dog. The crocodile is way more likely to go for Nandi than us."
Reason #2 for guard dogs: Bait/distraction
While no crocodiles attacked, when we returned from the village the girls scolded us saying that after fishing, with so many dead fish in the water, that's when the crocodiles come around to feed. 
Apparently, I was quite lucky not to have been eaten that day!
Martha seemed to think this was hilarious. 

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