War

They are waiting for me. My enemies. Hundreds of them. Fortifying their stronghold with pile upon pile of filth. And I must destroy them.

Bats. They seized the space above the ceiling panel in the Nyamataburu Health Center some time ago, pushing out bird and bee alike in a ruthless conquest.

The war began on Friday. My sister in arms, Janine Dzuba, cleared the battlefield with me. We moved out everything in the four main rooms which make up the majority of the Health Center, carrying medical supplies of varying levels of contamination to another room. We asked the men who had been working on the center to leave; we would subject no one to the deed which had to be done that day.

I was asked a week ago to find something to get rid of bats. In searching, I thought of foggers, but I could only find ones that targeted insects. I remembered that insecticides were usually neurotoxins. And then I realized: bats are mammals. Humans are mammals (just like ninjas). A nerve gas strong enough to kill a bat probably could kill a human; I wouldn't be able to find it at the Home Depot. But maybe (just maybe) concentrated insecticide might be able to kill a bat. Or many bats, God willing. I bought three canisters of insect-killing gas.

Armed with these canisters, I entered the center. The bats' lair had three entrances: one foot square movable panels. The far end of the center was the pharmacy was the room in which their forces seemed most heavily concentrated. They had been secure for many a year and would not suspect that anyone would have the boldness to raise his hand against them. Their hubris gave us the element of surprise. We would hit them where they were most vulnerable first. If we could only shoot once, we wanted to make it as damaging to them as could be.

I entered the pharmacy, armored only by a handkerchief over my mouth. I know not the ways of bats, nor their valor in battle. I do know that they sometimes wield a terrible weapon in their saliva, Rabies. So they were not to be underestimated. We closed all the windows and doors (save for one out of which we might escape in case of a counterattack). I pulled up a ladder the workers had used, setting it beneath the hole ten feet above us. We could hear the multitude of bats above us chirping, ignorant of what would come.

I had never listened to the chirp of a bat before. It is a very eerie thing, being a very high-pitched sound. It is usually not very loud, but is certainly very distinct. For those of you who know me well, you know that I have superhuman hearing (I mean that literally. The “limit of human hearing” is 20,000Hz. In a Physics lab, we recorded the limit of my hearing at 24,000Hz). I suspect that my experience of it was even more unique.

In the pharmacy, I began to use the pole to move the first panel. The light entered, and the alert was raised. They began to chirp louder. I carefully climbed up the ladder carrying one of the canisters, Janine at the open doorway photographed. The rickety ladder wobbled as I climbed. As my head approached the void, the I could hear their voices louder. I reached up with my left hand inside the cave, grabbing a rafter for support. With my right hand, I set the canister in place. And I pressed the button.




Gas began to shoot up. Straight up. It shot out of the can loudly, directly at where the bats were roosting. Their ire was aroused and their previous song overwhelmed as by a a tsunami of chrips, full of rage and surprise. But they did not move! They neither attempted escape nor attack! Their anger startled me, but I maintained my balance on the ladder. I climbed down and reached for the pole. The gas needed to be as concentrated as possible, so I needed to replace the panel.

I pushed on it. Once. Twice. Three times. But it would not move! It's weight was on the wrong side of the rafter! The bats continued their screaming, and I continued in vain to replace the panel. Then I struck it hard, and it fell into a place where it could be moved. It was closed! We exited out the pharmacy door and closed it behind us.


We moved quickly to the second and third ceiling entrances, doing the same thing. We exited to the hallway, and could hear them and their loud cries. We left them, waiting for the deadly gas to do its work before they would leave for the night.

But we were not sure if the gas would be strong enough to kill them. We guessed that it would not, even given the perfect execution in placement. We had to have a backup plan. If the gas did not kill them, they would need to be scared away. We would beat on the tin roof; this would surely drive them out until the ceiling panels were taken down, exposing their filthy home to the purifying light of day and making it unsuitable for creatures of the night.

We returned early the next morning and we entered the center. There was not a sound. Either they were all dead or they were preparing an ambush. We opened the panels and let the dens air out of what poison remained. We opened up the windows and doors on the front side of the building, and closed all of them on the back. Then we prepared for the final battle. This time we armored ourselves with thick clothing over all our bodies. A jacket hood, glasses and a handkerchief provided almost complete cover for my face, albeit somewhat thin.



I tied two belts together, and went to the back side of the building, prepared for an attack to be launched out of the small, invisible holes through which they originally invaded. I swung the belt like a whip, and the heavy buckle beat against the tin roof. The roof resounded loudly. But there was no movement. No other sound. I walked down the whole building, beating on the roof without hearing anything from the bats.

They might be desperate and waiting to see my face before they vented their hatred for my race and my person. Or perhaps the nerve gas had driven them mad. Most probably there were heaps of bat corpses in the ceiling. In any case, my job was not done until this was answered. I had to see for myself. Janine taped towels to my hands for further protection and put a headlamp on my head. I girded myself to stick my head into what once was (and hopefully was no more) their stronghold. I climbed the ladder. I reached up with a toweled hand into the abyss, grabbing a rafter. I took a deep breath, and stood on the final rung of the ladder, my head reaching into the darkness.


What I saw amazed me.


I did not see anything. No sign of bat or bat corpse. Nothing. They were gone. Just gone. I checked the second hole. Gone. The third hole. Gone. The bats had left and had not returned. I removed my toweled gloves and took a picture to document the miracle that had occurred. It was a victory beyond all we could have imagined.

Janine had been praying about this, as had many people. I had prayed for the destruction of these creatures, good in their form and capacity but now corrupted and perverted as much of Creation had been. But God did not answer my prayer. He granted us more than we ever asked or imagined. The best I had hoped for would have itself been a problem: hundreds of bat corpses that needed to be disposed of. But He granted something even better: A voluntary departure, granting the heart of our prayer while sparing His creatures. Praise God, for He has done a mighty work!