Fever

'We are living in the jungle', intoned my American friend. Not quite, I thought, picturing dense rainforests impenetrable to any form of human habitation. This ordered life with its potential for familiarity and even comfort was chicken feed compared to that existence. Yet I knew what she meant - here, in the midst of the numerous ecological niches, it was easy to feel insignificant. It's impossible to forget that we are not alone as a species when there are so many other populations here vying for environmental dominion, each seemingly oblivious to the others' existence until their boundaries blur. A whole village of crows caws a strange vespers and mattins; they share the trees lining the paths with gargantuan bats that stink up the ground with their urine. Frogs hop in the puddles, relishing the freedom of long awaited rains before the baking sun once again routes them to unknown hiding places. Bushy-tailed squirrels with their confusing skunk like markings flit from bough to bough. And inside there's more - geckos on the walls, mosquitoes in the air, beetles the size of two fingers. Rats and ants stealing food: wild, untameable - and sightings and rumours of snakes. The flies, carrion even of carrion, lord it over all, feasting on a dead crow that appears to have been lynched as it hangs from a dried bark. Truly, we are not alone.

Nature above is just as awe inspiring as nature all around. As I walked back to my room I saw the stars and was once again amazed by their beauty and intrigued by a solitary red star shining more brightly than any of the rest. Was it closer? Was it dying? The stars envelope you as you walk down a dark path, making you feel secure. Until you notice the black thing lying in wait. What was it? Another dead crow? A black cat? I stood and watched, bending over to peer into the eyes of the creature. It was still. So was I. The bats began to flutter in the trees. I shuddered. There was no going back now, for I had just said goodbye to the group of men I'd left behind before embarking on this solitary walk and did not want to display my fear. I could not raise my voice to call for help. So I stood, watching, knowing that the last one standing would win. I could wait all night for the creature to move - or for a protector to come my way - if that was all it took. The bats, fully awoken by now, began to fly in various directions. I reminded myself that they were just animals flying as is their prerogative. Then they woke up the crows, who also cried out and flew. I stood watching. So did the black creature, of whose feline identity I was by now certain.

Somebody came out of a bungalow and onto the path. The cat scarpered and I strolled my merry way along to my room. My bacon was saved. Fortune may favour the brave, but the patient cowardly aren't very far behind.