Bite Me...

You know what the funny thing about Pakistan is? It’s the little differences. Like the mosquitoes. I’m actually thinking back fondly of the mosquitoes at home. Can you believe that? Yes, those Canadian mosquitoes were almost cute in their polite attempts to bite me. Not like over here, where every mosquito is the insect spawn of Satan. Now, at home, the mosquitoes hunt in packs. They try to overwhelm you with pure numbers. But they’re big and bulky, like B-52 bombers, and they fly in predictable patterns. When it comes to the swat, it’s a fairly easy kill.

Pakistani mosquitoes on the other hand, are vicious, vindictive little buggers. It’s dry enough that there aren’t that many of them, thank God, but they are very sneaky. It’s very easy to underestimate the extent of their sneakiness. They’re smaller, sleeker and faster than their North American cousins, like F-16’s, and they’re trained in guerilla warfare. These little bastards fly complex flight patterns. They change direction at random, flying zig-zag patterns and attack vectors. The big, Canadian mosquito lands on your arm, kind of settles in a bit, washes up before dinner and then sinks her beak in, giving you plenty of time to recognize the nature of the threat and to neutralize it. Not so with the elite, Pakistani flying force. These little buggers come screaming down from extreme altitudes, kamikaze style, with teeth bared. The landing gear comes out, and as soon as they touch down, they’re in there (just like some guys I know). Sometimes you don’t even feel it happening (just like some girls I know). And just when you think you’ve got your eye on them, one quick zag into a darker area and they’re gone. And the other thing about these bitches (because only female mosquitoes bite – that’s a life-lesson, remember it) is that they go straight for the soft spots. I really don’t know how they do it. The wrists, the inside part of the elbows and knees, the knuckles, the eye-lids. Very selectively and carefully, they nail you in the itchiest spots possible. Yeah, these bugs weren’t born yesterday (I mean that metaphorically of course, since they probably were born yesterday).

And, of course, they’re also versed in germ warfare. At home, if a mosquito bites you, oh well, it’s irritating, but who cares. Over here, the itch is tainted with a hint of danger. Who knows what cocktail of tropical diseases is the order of the day? Will it be malaria? Who knows? It’s like reaching into a bio-hazard grab-bag and randomly sticking yourself with used syringes. I take a weekly anti-malarial medication here, which I tell myself gives me a measure of protection. Who knows though, a gin and tonic every day probably has enough quinine to be just as helpful… so I take that too. You have to start taking the meds before you leave home to build up your system, so I bought three months worth of the stuff from my home pharmacy for $60. When I ran out, I went to a local Karachi pharmacy and bought the same amount of pills for 8 Rupees. I thought I had heard the guy wrong since that’s about 15 cents. Go figure. It just goes to show you that the pharmaceutical industry is so much of a racquet you could play tennis with it.

But speaking of racquets, the only joy I get from mosquitoes over here is hunting them. My host Ali, has a small badminton-sized racquet that can be electrified at the touch of a button, and is the bane of mosquitoes in the house. (FYI- sticking your tongue out, and trying the shock is not as fun a game as it may at first seem.) Believe me, you feel goofy at first, stalking around the room like a demented Elmer Fudd, racquet in hand. But the satisfaction when you take the swing and hear the miniscule sizzle of barbecued mosquito is tough to beat. You may think I wouldn’t take such pleasure in killing something so small… but you’d be wrong.