Kebon Kacang declares war on cockroaches as chaos hits

Kebon Kacang declares war on cockroaches as chaos hits

Just as President Bush has declared war on terrorism and
Jakarta's Governor Sutiyoso has vowed to fight to the bitter end
against those beastly becak (pedicab) drivers, I myself have
resolved to do my bit for the civilized world by declaring war on
cockroaches.

Of course, it's not that my residence is in any way prone to
the critters, living as I do in Pondok Indah in a brand new,
multibillion rupiah Mexican-style villa unequivocally and
irrevocably guaranteed cockroach-proof ad infinitum by the
developer.

What?

OK, I'll come clean. The bit about the house is all a fantasy
I've dreamed up to try and maintain what little is left of my
sanity. No, the truth is I live in a dingy little first-floor
apartment in Kebon Kacang which, while lacking many of the things
that make human existence bearable, seems nevertheless to possess
most of the requisites for cockroach suburban bliss.

What shape will this war on cockroaches take, I hear you ask?
Well, I'm not quite sure yet although I'm due to hold a high
-level conference with Bonzo the cat any day now on the
appropriate strategies to adopt (Bonzo, incidentally, has been
given the honorary rank of general for the duration of the
campaign). General Bonzo appears to be just as discomfited by our
unwelcome guests as I am, and I've a sneaking suspicion that
they've been eating his food, which would explain his hungry and
harried look of late.

Of course, as Governor Sutiyoso has already found out, and as
President Bush may also soon discover, waging war on a wily and
elusive enemy is no easy matter.

Unlike famine-stricken Afghans, dropping bombs on my
cockroaches is obviously not an option if I want to keep a roof
over my head and stay on good terms with the neighbors -- and
anyway, popular wisdom has it that if nuclear Armageddon were to
be inflicted on us, the cockkies would survive it all and end up
inheriting the earth (roll over Planet of the Apes, hello Planet
of the Cockroaches -- Ugh!).

Thus, poison gas or even chemical weapons, would appear to be
the only solution.

But even then, would such drastic measures be enough to rid me
of the scourge of Blatta orientalis (for such is his official
moniker, if I'm not mistaken)?

The fact is, the enemy is well prepared and has no doubt
excavated, tunneled, burrowed and gnawed out a whole warren of
hideouts and shelters under my floors, in my walls, behind the
cistern in my bathroom, and possibly, horror of horrors, even
under my mattress (although I'm too terrified as yet to actively
investigate this possibility).

Getting carried away? No way, brother! This was precisely the
hideous fate that befell a friend of mine while backpacking on
his honeymoon (I kid you not) in Turkey. After a number of days
cavorting with the wife in the bedroom of their cheap pension, my
friend noticed a pair of long feelers appearing out from under
the mattress.

Being of a resolute nature, he quickly lifted up the mattress
to investigate. And lo and behold, guess what he discovered? Yes,
that's right, they had a full-on nest of the critters, a
veritable cockroach kampong, all wiggling around underneath their
butts the whole time.

A traumatic experience I'll wager and one pretty much
guaranteed to take one's mind off romantic boudoir pursuits for a
while!

So, what exactly is so appalling about my scuttling squatters?
After all, there's no shortage of other disgusting wildlife
around.

Take maggots, for example. Well, the difference here obviously
is that your average maggot tends to keep a respectable distance
unless you happen to be one of those people who habitually store
bloated and putrefying corpses in their homes.

Then there's mice. Now, it so happens that many Western ladies
have a morbid dread of mice, presumably because they have an
inherent fear that the raunchy rodents will run up their legs
and ... well, let's not get into that!

Of course, we all know that this is only an old-wives' tale
spread around to ensure that ladies sit modestly with their legs'
crossed, and that mice, especially white mice, are in reality
cuddly, lovable little creatures.

You don't agree? OK, let's put it this way, which would you
prefer, to pet a white mouse on the palm of your hand or a three-
inch-long granddaddy cockroach?

Furthermore, mice don't fly (unless you consider bats to be
flying mice), and land on your face and get in your hair while
you're dozing off watching TV.

And they don't make a horrible crunching sound when you stand
on them either, although they do make lots of little squeaking
noises ... er ... or so I've been told (General Bonzo, an expert
on the field of small rodents, also confirmed that this is
probably the case).

Anyway, I think it's time that I woke up to the fact that what
I'm actually suffering from here is INFESTATION (doesn't the very
sound of the word make your skin crawl?). But just like Governor
Sutiyoso's dream of ending the infestation of Jakarta by
undesirables, I fear that my dream of becoming master in my own
home once again may fail miserably.

Whatever the case, the FUMIGATORS, the special forces in this
war on cockroaches, are coming tomorrow to launch the first
offensive of the campaign. So it's fingers crossed from here on
in!

-- James Boyd