It is entirely inexplicable to me. Not the mice. Not the rats. Not the snakes. Frogs. A large, fat toad will give them a start, but a small frog that an American child might keep as a pet in a terrarium is enough to set off a small heart attack in my doña.
On Friday night I was laying in bed reading and waiting for the electricity to kick on when screams came emanating from the next room. My doña and two host nieces were beside themselves and asking my assistance to kill a frog that at this point had only been heard and not yet seen. We regularly sit and watch rats large enough to abduct small children run freely in the rafters without giving them a second thought. But the possibility of a frog in the house was enough to set everyone into hysterics. They say it is because frogs jump that they are scared. Well tarantulas jump. And bite. And kill. But no one seems to be afraid of that fuzzy ball of death. The ‘they jump’ argument doesn’t hold water for me.
Rats carry diseases. The most common rat-borne disease in the DR is leptospirosis. This can be spread through rat urine and result in liver and kidney damage. Rats are known to carry over 70 diseases ranging from typhus to Hantavirus to the bubonic plague. THE BUBONIC FUCKING PLAGUE! That doesn’t worry anyone here. Only Kermit must be killed.
So on Friday night as I come out of my room, using the light from my headlamp to guide myself, I see a 5 year-old, a 9 year-old and a 42 year-old standing on the couch (The couch where mice so often like to call home). They are begging me to exterminate a frog that may exist. Using said headlamp, I eventually make out the form a frog no larger than a golf ball sat idly under a table, undoubtedly wondering what the commotion is all about. They want me to kill it. I want to name it and give it a jar full of flies.
My hesitance leads to them calling for the nearest muchacho to come take my job as exterminator. Muchachos can do anything and do it for free. Want to buy something at the store? Send a muchacho. Need to send a message to the lady down the street? Send it with a muchacho. Need to kill a 1-inch tall tree frog? Call a muchacho. They do it all.
The muchacho who relieved me of my position missed with a couple whacks of a broomstick and the frog hopped away to temporary safety. My doña was disappointed and fears its imminent return. Meanwhile mice are pooping everywhere and eating my clothes and no one bats an eyelash.
This is just another example of how strange and oftentimes irrational phobias can be. We as humans are faced with myriad threats every day and it is clowns (coulrophobia), constipation (coprastasophobia), frogs (ranidaphobia) and other random things that make people’s blood run cold. Humans are weird.
The escapee frog’s name is Arbolito. A jar of flies awaits his return. Or swift death if a Dominican finds him first.
ayyy chacho es verdad. i was thinking of you today and this post when i was walking to the cemetery in a funeral procession (old dona, dios le bendiga) and everyone was singing and fanning themselves under the hot sun and then it all stopped because there was a muddy part of the road that no one wanted to cross. there were several comments about just turning around, but somehow folks overcame their fear of mud and paid their respects. que cosa.
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