A mouse in the house

Coming back from America, of course I had hit the jackpot of goodies. The kids and host family all got little presents. And as for me, well, I have a life-time supply of powerbars, some great flavored tuna, applesauce, stuff to make s'mores with my host family, calcium chews, extra toys to give to the kids at the holidays, you name it.

Now normally, I don't lock my door when I go out for a run. Why would I? I'm not gone long, everyone's around, and no one would dare sneak in my house anyway. What I have had before are mice. God I hate mice. I once shined my flashlight on one late at night in my kitchen chowing down on a potato. Actually, the only time I have let kids in my house is when there's a critter to catch. They're pretty skilled at that.

So returning from my first run back, I noticed the four bananas I had sitting in a bowl had become, in 45 minutes, two bananas and two bananas worth of peels. I showed my host mom. “Did someone come in my room?” I asked.

She looked at the bananas. “No, of course not. The kids all know not to go in your house.” She confirmed it with the girls pounding millet. No, no one could have possibly come in. “Are you sure you didn't eat them.”

Sounds like something I would do, but I was pretty sure that I didn't eat those two bananas. We concluded that the mouse was back. Pretty hungry mouse! Impressive. I went back inside and noticed my shelves were all messed up and a can of chicken salad was open on the table. I definitely didn't open that can. And I really thought I put it on the shelf too.

“Could a mouse do that?” I showed the can to my host mom, and of course had to explain the concept of canned chicken salad.

“I guess, if it really put it's body up against it and popped the lid.” Geez. This mouse means business. When Shaka and Cesalo heard about this, they offered their mouse hunting services. I asked them to give me a few minutes to clean up around the house (Ameriki goodies were sprawled everywhere as I was still in the process of unpacking) and then they could come in.

I picked up a bit, started cooking my dinner, and was noticing a few other weird stuff in my house. A couple of toys were perched on the window sill. Maybe they fell out of my bag? I did have to crawl through the window to get in at first, as my door tends to get stuck if you don't open it for a few days. I went and tidied up the boxes in the corner as it began to get harder to see in the afternoon dusk.

Then, I noticed something. Behind the gas tank. A large bundle of something Was it my sleeping bag? I touched it. Oh my gosh- I almost screamed. It's a dead body!! It moved, and sat up.

“Madu??? What are you doing here?” The scared 9-year old had been balled up in the corner for a couple of hours, dusty and whimpering.

“Nothing.”

“Why did you come in here?”

“I don't know.”

“Did you take anything.”

“No, I just ate some candy.” I look at the wrappers. Well, he definitely had his daily value of calcium today.

“Were you trying to get the toys out the window?”

“Yes.”

“Did you open that can?”

“Yes.”

“Did you eat the bananas?”

“No. You must have a mouse in here.” Darn it! God I hate mice.

“Madu?”

“Yeah I ate the bananas.” Madu was terrified to go outside, he knew he'd get in big trouble and most definitely get beaten. I tried to hide him for a little while, but it really became time for him to face the music and get out. I can't have him just laying here while I'm trying to cook dinner.

Meanwhile, Shaka and Cesalo are anxiously waiting to go hunt down the mouse. “Did you see it in there?”

“Yeah, I found it.”
“Well where is it?”
“It's here.”
“Did you kill it?”
“No.”
“Well, let it out!”
“I'm going to let it out later.”
“Why? Just let it out now!”
“If I let out the mouse, you have to all promise you won't trouble it, you hear?”
“Yeah, yeah yeah.”
“No one is going to hit it, no one is going to chase it, you'll just let it run away and not tell anyone. Promise?”

As they wondered why I was so protective of this mouse I went in and tried talking to Madu. “You gotta come out now.” And little by little I got him to stand up, go near the door, and there was this dramatic pause as I held the door open and the people outside waited for the mouse to come scurrying out. Finally Madu made his exit, directly to the wooden post outside my house where he immediately hid his face in his arms. Everyone's mouth dropped in a shocking silence.

Back to cooking dinner, I figured the whole situation was too funny to get mad at Madu. Besides, despite my bargaining, I knew he was going to get punished. He's just a kid. But now among the neighborhood, he is forever known as “the mouse.”