Snake alarm

May 31, 2017

Usually I write in the evening or the next morning with a calm and complete overview of the previous day. But today, I have to report immediately.
It's a rainy morning. It has been raining all night and well into the morning. In the morning, we had warmed up oatmeal (!?) and Tzama, who seems somehow absent today, says that on such days, work is not done here. Oh, what a welcome change. So after the extended breakfast - I have a long conversation with Valera about everything, especially about obstetrics because she wants to become a midwife - I start writing. About yesterday. After that, I start reading calmly in the book entrusted to me. Interesting, and the direction of the statements is the one I had assumed. And by the way, I fully agree with it, as far as I have understood the statements so far. At some point, I look up at the ceiling and think that there could be a snake up there if it weren't so motionless. I stopped writing and had plenty of time and the direction to look up at the ceiling. Why don't I remember it quite like that? The thing doesn't move, but have I seen it before?
For safety's sake, I move a little. Nothing. For absolute safety, I search for the glasses from my luggage because I haven't used them except for one evening in Quito. I put on the glasses and the case is crystal clear. It's a snake hanging from the ceiling diagonally above me, fully fixated on me, the body on the rooftop beam, most likely crawled down over the roof between the two metal sides. What scares me considerably is the absolutely fixated gaze on me, even when I make movements with my Shuar spear a little to the side of it. The snakes here seem unaware of the Oriental tricks of the snake charmers. 'Valeria? Do you know the snakes of the jungle? Do you know anything about snakes?' - 'Why? Do you have one?' - 'Yes!'
She comes and realizes that she doesn't know anything about this one.
'Venomous?' - 'I don't know.'
The ceiling is damn high. She gets my walking stick because the small fork at the top seems ideal to her for dealing with the snake. I know that the fork is too big and the snake would be out in a hundredth of a second. Nevertheless, I reach out for it. But I don't like it because I don't have any grip at this height and can only operate with one hand, but in no way can I react in a controlled manner. We decide that she will get help and I will stay here. I insist on it because I don't want the creature to crawl under my ceiling or into my laundry spread out on the empty neighboring bed in my absence.
Her son Camillo stays here. I watch the creature the whole time, but I also work on the variation of being able to catch the snake with a noose on my walking stick. Meanwhile, Camillo bombards me with questions. The best age for that, but he doesn't bother me at all. I can clearly tell him what he should not do.
After about fifteen minutes, I finish my noose, and the snake has moved from the ridgebeam down to a lower height. It also showed its boredom in between with a big yawn. In doing so, I was allowed to admire its long, upper teeth. For me, the case was clear: Venomous.
I tried twice to get its head into the noose of the stick. The first time, it made a movement with its open head towards the end of the stick. The second time, I had it in, I should have tightened it and caught it.
But then what? Wait until help comes and tells me with his experience whether it is really poisonous and that he would have dispatched it with his machete? And how long would I have to hold the damn loop with my hand, and damn tense, because snakes have tremendous power?
I was simply very pleased that my system worked and that was it.

The snake had now approached the tree, which I assumed was also the way up to the roof. Now Valeria and Jorge arrived. The good Jorge, yes, he could be relied upon. Of course, he brought his machete along. The snake had crawled onto the tree. Jorge shook it, gave me the machete, and told me to wait down below until it falls and then ... clear, right?
But she didn't come, skillfully concealed herself. Only after five minutes did Valeria spot her in the nearby tree. Jorge shook it, it fled to another tree, now completely defenseless because it was small and had no leaves that provided cover. Jorge then came down from the terrace and struck the snake until it fell on the third attempt. Despite slipping on the steep slope and narrowly avoiding the edge, I jumped towards the snake, took a swipe and missed. On the second strike, I hit it. The neck was almost severed ten centimeters behind the head. Jorge warned against getting too close. The head is still moving, so is the body. By the way, this went on for a long time.
We then tried to make the teeth visible. They were indeed centimeters long and pointed.
I didn't feel good. After all, I had cut off the head of an animal. But ultimately, it had no business being in my apartment. And secondly, the people here do exactly that when they find a poisonous snake.
And yet I am a little proud: so far I have been hesitant to pick up a machete. Cutting off the head of a venomous twenty-meter-long monster with the second strike? Not bad! Right?
(Factor 10. / But then it's true.)