Tree House of Horrors

I have to admit that after the Great Black Mamba Scare of 2005 I was slightly skeptical about spending the night in a tree. Especially a tree in the middle of a rainforest, ten minute’s walk from the main camp, guarded by a slithering, black poison repository. Now, if we had almost stepped on some sort of sleeping carnivore, then sure, I would have been happy to sleep in a tree. I would have said, to hell with all of you, there’s no way I’m not sleeping in a tree. But the fact of the matter is that I had just almost stepped on a snake, and now I was looking at the tree in which I intended to sleep, and not half an hour before I had examined a poster depicting a local "Tree Snake." It just seemed like maybe there was no direct need to poke fate in the eye with a fork. But then, I certainly couldn’t show any fear in the presence of my little sister, especially since she was resolutely refusing to show any fear in the presence of her older brother.

However, after climbing up the thirty-foot ladder to our arboreal home for the night, the coolness factor of sleeping in a tree house in the jungle quickly reestablished its footing in my mind. Black Mambas be damned! I’m sleeping in a tree in Africa! So after dinner, my sister and I settled in for the night. We played a little cards and chatted away into the wee hours until we doused our lantern and curled into our bunks for the night. The tree frogs and cicadas soared into a symphonic crescendo and serenaded my attempts at sleep.

Just as I was sliding through that stage where thoughts become dreams, I heard a hissing noise. I stiffened, but it was just my sister. "David!" she stage whispered again, "There’s something in here!" I sat up and listened. "Anna," I whispered back, "You’re a friggin’ nut-case." "No, seriously, I can hear something." The tension was palpable as I strained to hear the faintest sound. Suddenly I heard a scratching, scuttling noise, and I had to admit, it was loud. "You see!" hissed Anna. "No… I can’t see anything, it’s dark." "Shut up." "You shut up." (Sibling nonsense dies hard.) "What is it?" she asked me. "I don’t know Anna, you’re the one that lives in Africa" I whispered, and then added "And why are we whispering?" She had to admit this was a good question. I was irritated that my heart was beating so fast, but I couldn’t get the images of snakes out of my mind, as much as I told myself that they can’t possibly scuttle and scratch.

Quite suddenly, I heard the noise again, and this time I definitely heard little footsteps and was somewhat relieved. Anna heard them too and proclaimed, "Maybe it’s a Bush Baby!" (A Bush Baby is a tiny little nocturnal monkey, and not, as you may be thinking, another derogatory name for the American President.) I realized that the delirium of sleep and darkness was taking its toll on my sister. "Anna, there is no possible way that there is a cute little monkey in our tree house!" "Then what is it?" "I don’t know, maybe it’s a rat, but why would it be in here?" My sister was struck with another epiphany, "It’s eating our Mangoes!" I had forgotten about the mangoes, but reason quickly intervened, "Look Anna, for God’s sake, nothing is eating the mangoes, They’re in a plastic bag and it would make a huge racket." Besides, I still wasn’t dead sure that this thing was actually inside. I suspected we were psyching ourselves out in the dark. She admitted this was true, but at the next assault of the pitter-patters she cried out, "David I think it’s on my bag… Oh god!.. Our Samosas! It’s going to eat through my bag!" Besides being irritated at having so much food in there that I had forgotten about completely, I was getting cranky and sleepy. Before Anna could leap with wild abandon toward any more conclusions, I grabbed her bag and hung it from the roof. "What about the Mangoes?" she asked. I was emphatic, "It's NOT eating our mangoes!" We lit the lantern, since we could hear nothing when the light was on, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

A couple hours later, I awoke in the dark, in a cold sweat, hoping it wasn’t jungle fever because I’ve heard that can be awkward. But no, I heard a distinct chomping noise directly above my head. Something was on the roof. Now it was my turn. "Anna!" I whispered repeatedly until I woke her ass up. In retrospect, I really don’t know why it’s more comforting to sit in the dark with someone else and listen to something crawling on the roof, but it is. I smacked the roof with a book a few times, but nothing would deter our visitor. There was nothing for it, and eventually I fell into a restless sleep, clinging to the knowledge that whatever it was, it wasn’t actually inside the house.

When the alarm went off at 7:00 for our Chimpanzee tracking, I was exhausted. Anna didn’t wake up at all, and she’s the lightest sleeper I know. I shook her awake and we hurriedly got ready and started cleaning up the tree house since we only had it for one night. I picked up our random belongings and then reached down to pick up a bag out of the corner. Slowly, I turned to my sister and said, "Anna. I apologize," … "For what?" she asked.

I didn’t answer, and instead just held up the bag of four, half-eaten and destroyed mangoes….

I really hate being wrong.