The Plagues

Living on the edge of the Pacific Rainforest has its advantages. We have wild parrots in our park. I get to eat all the bananas I want. And I never have to bother with carrying a coat.

Unfortunately, it also means a LOT of rain.

Every night, I fall asleep to the sound of sheets falling on the calamine roof. And every morning, I wake up to unavoidable, 6-inch-deep mud outside my front door. In every direction, there are puddles of murky water and — what we PCVs have dubbed — “The Plagues.”

Mosquitoes, frogs and grasshoppers. It’s insane.

And when it rains, they all move indoors. The frogs are the creepiest. I’ve already told y’all about the one who lives in my bathroom. You can’t walk down the street without almost accidentally stepping on one. Every morning, when the ladies come to clean the health post, you can see them sweeping dozens of them out from the corners and underneath desks.

Grasshoppers mostly just startle me. They have a thing about landing on the top of your head or shoulders. You could be inside, behind closed doors, and one will fly from out of nowhere and hit you square on the cheek.

Nothing bugs me worse, though, than the mosquitoes.

I grew up in Minnesota. The mosquito is our state bird. But I have never seen anything like this. They come in hordes, ominously buzzing behind my ears and just on the other side of the mosquito net. They bite me under my watch, on the arches of my feet, through my jeans. There’s no escaping them. This is only made worse by the fact that we are in an area fairly rich with Malaria and Dengue.

Thankfully, I’m on anti-malarial meds. But there’re no meds for Dengue. There’s no treatment either. You’re just bed-ridden in total agony for two weeks until it passes you.
I’m absolutely terrified of getting it.

Our PC doctor, Jorge, told us that no volunteer has ever gotten Dengue yet here in Peru. I think he thought it would comfort us. I just shuddered at the statistics. Someone is bound to get it with all the mosquitoes. And since there are only eight of us who live in the Dengue zone Every time I get a really bad bite, I think, “Oh, dear God. This is it.”

Well … it might not be rational, but it still freaks me out.