Spider Stories

I have been at war with spiders for the entirety of my life. For reasons unknown, their very existence condradicts everything I believe in. At the mere sight of the tiniest arachnid, my ¨flight or fight response¨ is activated. My heart pounds, my blood runs cold, and my mind tells me that I am in mortal danger. Yet, in contrast to my every instinct and sense of self preservation, here I am in Peru, their designated battleground.

Initially, naively, I believed myself and the spiders to be in a state of neutral coexistence. I saw them every now and then, I knew they were there, but we maintained our respective boundaries. However, I am now certain that the aroma of my fear became irresistable. As with most of Earth´s creatures, they too sense a weak prey. Slowly, I began to see more of them. First, two with small bodies and long legs emerged in the bathroom. Although I thought I had made it clear to them that they were permited to survive only as long as they didn´t interfere with my daily activities, they blatently displayed themselves on the sink. I acted quickly, asking my host brother to take care of the matter. He did so, all the while looking at me like I was crazy. I felt a little bad, they hadn´t been particularly vicious spiders, but they had broken the rules first and I was unwilling to compromise.

The next week, I learned that Peruvian spiders play dirty. It was four in the morning, and I was returning from a quinciñera. Despite the metal doors and cement floors, I had managed to make it to my room without producing a sound loud enough to wake my family. Eager to rest after a tiring day, I put on my pajamas and walked across the room to turn out the light. Half way to my destination, I encountered a spider the size of my hand, perched for the attack in the middle of the far wall. One month before I might have had a nervous breakdown, but I was Peruvian now. Determined to win this battle too, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed both a broom and a plastic bag. As I expected, the spider lay in wait, unmoving from its previous position. With a deep breath and a decisive move, I slammed the bristles into it´s body. To my utter horror, the spider lept off the wall directly towards my face, as if it had anticipated my move. The battle lost, I screamed in terror, swiping madly at the air. My host sister ran into the room, curious as to what could be so terrifying at four in the morning. I explained in my broken Spanish, as she examined the remnants of the enemy on the floor. ¨It´s not that big,¨she said. ¨Sleep well.¨ My thought: ¨They get bigger?¨

Later, during field based training, my group was assigned to give a lesson in front of one hundred fourth and fifth graders at a school in Cajamarca. When we walked into the room, there was a great deal of excitement, and we thought they were especially thrilled to see us. However, it turned out that the real sensation was a large poisonous black spider that had to be removed with a set of pliers by one of the professors. Yes, they get bigger.

Now, in my eighth week in the land of the spiders, the war continues. For the last week I had been waking up with more bug bites than when I had went to bed, including some which had formed unique red welts on my right arm. I had searched for the source without any luck. However, as I pulled back the covers last night to perform my rutine inspection, a squirming black body dashed across my Casper comforter, making a beeline for my hand. Holding in a scream, a yanked off my shoe and brought down my judgement upon it. However, while my mattress is very firm, it didn´t provide enough force to squish the intruder. Again, with a red face, I enlisted my host brother to take it down. He did so, whisking it quickly to the floor and raking it´s body across the cement until nothing remained but a damp stain.

And so the war continues. Me versus them. I´m outnumbered, but my spirit won´t be broken.