Exploring the offerings of this big and beautiful world.

Beginnings are a funny thing.

I often wonder if they even exist in and of themselves at all.

Perhaps they are notable only because they make us take notice of something. As humans we need ritual to mark events in our shared and seemingly unending story.

So welcome to this beginning, a folded page corner in a vast and expansive book. A small makeshift indicator to mark one human experience in our deliciously large and unfolding novel…

The story of my first really trivial scare while working in the development sector.

***
The dull discomfort of a full bladder pulls me away from my dreams. I become aware of the heavy warmth of the Malawian night air pushing relentlessly onto my damp skin. Air’s sister, Darkness, decides to join in on the fun. I flick the switch and Darkness refuses to retreat to make space for light.

My hand fumbles before seizing the headlamp. I follow the dim beam to the bathroom.

Despite being a relatively relaxed person, I have one very irrational fear. I don't worry about snakes in trees or water or forests, but I'm terrified by the thought of snakes in one particular place: the toilet.

My snake-in-the-toilet phobia originated from a childhood urban legend. A young girl sitting on the loo was injured when a snake found its way up a pipe and sunk its teeth into her bottom.

Over twenty years later, I check the bowl before dropping trou – EVERY SINGLE TIME.

As per my ridiculous habit, I shine the light on the toilet and peer tentatively into the bowl.

My eyes focus and rest in the toilet as my childhood fear becomes reality. There is a small thin snake slithering slowly through the toilet water.

The increasing reality of my discomfort forces me to make a tough decision. What to do when nature calls and there is only one toilet, and that toilet has a snake in it?

Hold it? Pee outside? Go on the snake?

Before judging me too harshly dear reader, please consider that I am living in a compound with a night guard who owns a very powerful flashlight. Plus, If the snake was swimming in the toilet bowl, it means it is ok in water right?

Being a vegetarian and firm believer in animal rights, I am not entirely proud of what I did.

I look once again at the small creature before squatting as far away from the throne as possible.

Minutes later I lie in bed relieved, hoping I haven't harmed the him and praying that wormy-snake germs can't travel upstream.

***

*The trivial problems of a development worker.*