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The porch- a place of merriment, respite, and relaxation. Haven of beer, cigars, and mid-day thunderstorm watching. Many a night in the states, my friends would gather on my family’s porch in Pittsburgh, drinking a few brews, chatting about trivial affairs. A porch is a staple of the American summer—citronella candles, seasonal furniture, musical instruments. What is not to love about a porch?
Two things (that coincidentally slant rhyme): bees and thieves.
Part 1
Early last week, as I groggily meandered into the sitting room to iron some clothes at about 6 in the morning, I heard a din of the buzz. Right away, I knew that this wasn’t a handful of insects—this reverberation screamed of plague-ish proportions. The deafening echo was coming from my porch, so I drew back the curtains… only to find that hundreds of bees infiltrated it, allowing no living thing to pass into or out of our house. They lined the walls and the ceiling, fifty or so were dead on the floor, and they were all attracted to one spherical object: our small (but bright) halogen light bulb that was emitting rays of artificial light.
“Oh my god,” I uttered. Only to hear a:
“Mr. J, don’t come outside!” (This was my roommate. Sometimes he calls me Mr. J).
My roommate had gone early to the mosque to pray on this Thursday, something that he normally does not do. He left early—probably around 5 am—and turned on the light to guide his path. He left it on, not thinking that there would be any repercussions. Boy was he wrong.
The massive beehive on our building had been growing for some time (see the picture in previous posts). The bees, mistaking our porch light for sun in the darkness before dawn, were using it as an compass—guiding them to pollen. The bees were thrown off course, of course. Some unfortunate Icaruses (Icarusi?)flew too close to the pseudo-sun and perished in this search, only to be swept away by my broom later in the day.
My roommate asked for a cloth sheet so that he could cover himself to get back into the house. I quickly opened the door, threw him it, and he waddled his way back into the house. Fortunately, the bees stung neither of us… and when the real sun came back, they left our home. Dads around the world are probably rejoicing—another solid reason that you should shut off the lights when you aren’t using them.
Part 2
We live on the ground level. Pros: No stairs to walk up, easy access in and out of the apartment. Cons: thievery.
We take enormous precautions when it comes to safety here. We live in a gated community; we have a separate lock for our porch, and then we a lock on the door. Our neighborhood is quiet and safe.
It is custom to take shoes off before entering homes here in Kenya. The reasons for this is simple—as stated in last posts, this place is dusty. Dragging dirt into homes, as humble as some of them are, just make them a mess. Plus, if you live in Lamu, you are certain to drag donkey shit into your house. But I digress.
Due to my roommate’s vigilant effort to remove his shoes before entering, I too have been obeying this custom. We simply leave our shoes on our porch, (again, which is locked). The next day, we put them on and shine them (daily) and go to work.
On Monday morning, I get a knock at my bedroom door around 8am. My roommate is there, saying something to the effect of “our stuff is gone.”
I had no idea what he meant, but I expected the worse… someway, somehow, someone had gotten INTO the house and stole our tv, dvd player (that has only played downloaded pop music videos to this day), the fridge (my favorite apparatus from the western world), etc. He showed me to the porch, where our line-up of shoes had disappeared—save two pair, Abubakar’s four shoes that were closest to the door.
I actually wasn’t really all that disappointed. The pair of leather shoes that I brought over was on the porch, but I couldn’t wear them anyway. Walking on the uneven roads with them had given me a main toe infection. No loss there. Another pair of run-down flip-flops were stolen of mine, which were not great for walking on the roads anyway.
The biggest loss was a brand new pair of Tevas that I bought in Lamu this past weekend. But, really, I am fortunate that nothing of much value was on the porch. Abubakar lost four pairs of shoes, but his nice leather shoes were spared.
The thieves came in the middle of the night, climbing over the part of the gate that does not have barbed wire on it. It is a very small section because there is an adjacent roof that blocks any intruders from getting in. This person had to be really skinny or a child—because they squeezed their way through. We saw his footprints (literally, of a foot with no shoes on) on the white concrete wall of the gate. Using a stick with a wire attached to the end of it, the thief fished for our shoes and sandals from our gated porch, all at around 3 in the morning.
My roommate knew not to leave things on the porch and was kicking himself for it—this was common sense. I guess that I am too trusting, I suppose. I will not leave anything on the porch that can be passed through those metal bars again. It shows, too, the level of need that these communities have—to steal second-hand shoes and sell them at next to nothing to have some pocket money. It saddens me a great deal.
If only the bees could have come the same day of the thieves… THAT would have made a great story.
Signing off,
Adam
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