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Chapter One: Settling in Pangs. The second night passed peacefully enough except for one trifling disruption. A brazen rat ran across Milka's face. Even I, the heaviest of sleepers, woke up, jumped out of bed, grabbed the nearest weapon, a slipper, and chased the intruder around the room.
One moment the rat was on the bed. Though I kept swiping furiously, it was always one move ahead. Undoubtedly, the din should have awakened the dead, yet the children, in nearby rooms, slept on. The African air must have tired them out. Suddenly, the contest was over. The rat, in its wild dashes, jumped once more on to the dresser, bounded to the top of the wardrobe whence it leapt on to a narrow ledge before abruptly vanishing through a hole in the mosquito gauze. Milka switched off the bedside light and we resumed our slumbers.
One blessing did result from the incident. Milka consented to an anti-rodent campaign. Rodents are a great attraction to snakes. My mind reasoned that if we got rid of the rodents then the snakes would move elsewhere. Thus, two irritating problems would be resolved.
Metaphorically speaking, one pill would kill two ills. I suspected that rats, voles and other rodents had their nest in the thick grass and I reckoned if I destroyed the grass, our troubles would be over. Next morning, Milka hired a gardener cum general factotum. His first task was to cut grass. What he used merited not the name scythe although it was a piece of curved iron, nicknamed 'slasher'.
