Fear magnifies an object of dread
An article on a police investigation triggered by a spider was hilarious. The incident happened in Sydney, Australia, where police cars rushed to an apartment from where the sounds of a woman screaming and a man yelling were heard by neighbours. Those living next door came to the logical conclusion that this was a case of domestic violence and needed intervention. So, as good citizens, they called the police.
However, the security men soon discovered that the ominous phrase “I’m going to kill you — you’re dead” and furniture being thrown about were simply a reaction to the invasion of a spider.
In retrospect, I don’t blame the owner for being petrified, knowing fully well that some of the most poisonous creatures dwell Down Under.
There is something about this particular creepy crawly that makes my hair stand on end and this is no exaggeration. Perhaps that’s why I’m obsessed with not allowing my house to be visited by this obnoxious creature. I never leave food in bins and keep the place scrupulously clean to deter an invasion.
I remember having to teach a lesson years ago about the usefulness of cockroaches in nature’s scheme of things and how invaluable they are in eating up dead vegetation and maintaining a balance.
As far as I’m concerned, if that is the case, they should keep to dense shrubbery and not venture into urban areas largely devoid of greenery.
That was one class I hated teaching. Having to marvel over the uses of a creature I find repugnant seemed hypocritical. One of my students offered to bring a specimen to class, but I managed to curb his enthusiasm by telling him that it wasn’t a rare species that needed to be studied and analysed. There was more than enough information on it, with even National Geographic magazine devoting several pages to this vermin, singing its praises as the hardiest survivor. One would think it had won I’m a celebrity get me out of here.
In the parental home back home, there were a lot of these as there was a huge garden that provided a natural sanctuary. But, sometimes they invaded the house as if they were tired of all that lushness and needed a break from the green spaces. And, when they made their stealthy entry, guess who was the first person to make their acquaintance? They seemed to make a beeline for me as if they could sense my fear.
My dad would watch with amusement as I screamed and did this version of St Vitus’ dance (a disorder characterised by rapid uncoordinated jerking movements). After watching me for a few seconds, he would flick it away and say “It’s only a cockroach”. That was the last straw. Only a cockroach?
Clearly others don’t see what I see. A creature that seems to assume mammoth proportions as it darts towards you, making a dash for freedom via a path between your feet, which makes you jump and look even more ridiculous.
I will never understand why people volunteer to take part in reality shows such as I’m a celebrity, get me out of here. The show’s hosts say that it is a way of confronting one’s worst fears, but I’d rather not come face to face with my worst nightmare.