A tour of the spiders in my house:
Friend. Friend is the largest and first named of my arachnid co-dwellers. If Friend’s body, unshelled peanut sized, were in the middle of my hand, its legs would extend over the edges of my palm. I realized how uneasy the spiders here make me feel but wanted to keep them (the alternative being killing them or chasing them out of the hut). If I was going to share space with these creatures, I had to think of them as my friends, as enemies of my enemies: beetles, ticks, roaches, and especially mosquitoes. Part of befriending these spiders includes giving them silly names. Friend lives behind my calendar and usually pokes several legs or a head out of the paper in the evening.
Patsy. Patsy is smaller, about the circumference of an average plum. Patsy lives in a space between the bricks above the cubby where I keep my toothbrush. Most of my spider friends are wall crab spiders- large and nocturnal but almost entirely sedentary. They stay in the same spaces, night after night, diligently patrolling their chosen hunting grounds.
Scoot. Scoot used to live on a wooden board I had leaning up against the wall. However, I used the board to make a shelf for my kitchen, and Scoot has not been spotted since. Sorry, Scoot.
Eleanor. Eleanor is about the size of Kennedy half-dollar. The legs might still extend over the edges. Eleanor lives on my door, usually on the crossbeam that is at eye-level, making close quarters when I squeeze out the door to go to the bathroom at night. The spiders are fairly skittish, scampering off at the first sight of external movement within their territory. When I open the door, Eleanor scurries through the cracks in the beams to the other side, usually. I may have inadvertently fed Eleanor to Friend last night. After I returned from the bathroom, I didn’t see Eleanor in the usual position but saw Friend with a familiar shape and many legs in its pedipalps.
Lurch. Lurch isn’t a wall crab spider and it more mobile but is a befriended spider all the same. Lurch is longer and leggier than my other friends and looks something like a Daddy long legs. Lurch lives in the rim of the basin I use to wash my hands and is entrusted with the task of keeping insects away from the open water. Friendship in exchange for small labor.
And yes, I realize how inane this all is. It’s a result of two components: Relative boredom and loneliness in my little hut that feels far too big for one person, especially in a society where people live together in family groups. Secondly, I have a desire to live harmoniously with the creatures here and to accept that large spiders, as well as annoying mice, venomous snakes, caterpillars that make your skin burn, beetles that secrete acid, painful ant bites, and diseases like malaria, HIV/AIDS, Dengue fever, and schistosomiasis are real and present threats here. In comparison to the list of things I must protect myself from, hand-sized spiders are a manageable non-threat. If I can successfully live with uncomfortably large spiders, I can better (and more realistically) focus on being successful in other areas.
An update: Eleanor has relocated to the beam on the right side of the door. Phew! I don’t know what (or who) Friend was eating.
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