Is whether it bites or not. I have a habit of asking "What kind of spider is this?" And if anyone has an answer, it's in Kichwa and I can't understand it anyway. Had one above my bed the other day, took a poll on peligroso or no (dangerous), decided to let it be and actually slept in my own bed. I was alone in -- or under-- the house, and I'm proud of myself for being able to sleep.
Picture this Amazonian Norman Rockwell scene - family gathered around the candle (me, 8 year old Nellie and 5 year old Robinson) playing Mexican bingo while dinner is cooking on the stove. Rice, of course. We have three square meals a day of rice. I'm packing my backpack for the weekend in case I get lucky and get to go to the lodge for the weekend. So I have my little backpack on my lap, we're laughing, since we really can't communicate with words, and lo and behold there is a mongo spider on my backpack...while it's on my lap. Quietly, but oh so quickly, I place the pack on the floor a few feet away and then my questioning begins. What kind of spider is it? Oh pleeeese. The real question, which the kids get immediately, is "pincha" - which means it bites. They don't care what kind of spider it is and I don't either. They go downstairs, get a board, beat it to death, push it over the edge of the house (look ma, no walls) and then it's back to bingo.
We saw a spider with hands the other night. Mari was closest but the camera is never around for the good stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment