The other night, while sleeping somewhat pleasantly, I was awakened by what I thought was a fire alarm. The pulsing sound was similar to what I have heard in large buildings, but this was not a large building. I don’t have a fire alarm in my house. The piercing sounds seemed to emanate from the front of the house. I moved slowly in case there were larger problems regarding the electricity box attached to the house at one corner of my bedroom, or the phone line attached at another corner.
I shut of the porch light (which I’m told will scare off any bad elements concerned with ransacking the house at night) and the sound continued. I turned it back on and unlocked the front door. The sound was surely coming from the front porch and I used my ears. They brought me to the light and I saw it: a locust. Just one. I’m not one to shoo the thing away so I returned to my room and went back to sleep amid the wails. Problem solved.
The next morning I walk out to take my morning meal on the porch and see that the locust has migrated from the ceiling of the porch to the coffee table. Only the locust isn’t right side up; it’s dead. The ubiquitous ant hordes are already going to work. Maybe, just maybe, the sounds the locust was making was it’s death wail. I’ll probably never know.
Last Friday was an Islamic holiday for Indonesia. I believe it was the Ascension of Mohammed to Heaven, but don’t quote me on that. Anyhow, instead of having the day off there was a workshop at the language center with my coordinator from Jakarta. A big one day shindig on Listening & Notetaking. I was more of the technical administrator and making sure the presenter was taken care of rather than a participant. Come to think of it, I didn’t even get a certificate of participation. Hmm. There were about 30 participants from our university and a couple other in the city, including the catholic university. OK, it’s not really that exciting for the general public but it’s part of the mundane occurrences you signed on for when you started reading today’s post.