For those of you who grew up in the US in the mid-1990s, you might be familiar with a little Disney blockbuster known as “The Lion King.” What you might not be familiar with is the fact that many of the names of the characters in that film are taken straight from the Kiswahili to English translation. The lovable and curious lion cub Simba? Simba is Kiswahili for lion. The mysterious teacher and all-knowing baboon Rafiki? Rafiki is Kiswahili for friend.
Why am I telling you this? I’ll get back to that in a minute.
Friday was basement day. The Fella was still waiting for his mighty little ladder (or whatever that ladder is called) to complete the plaster and lathe ceiling project, so it was time to clean up the basement to prepare for new ductwork and all of that stuff I don’t understand. After mowing (the leaves are finally filling out the trees that are still alive and they look beautiful!) he went into the basement to cut copper pipe. We can turn this pipe in for some dough to help repair the house.
Then he shuffled the water heater up the stairs.
Then we got to the boiler. The old boiler looked like something out of a horror film. It was a big blackish box that has some type of cast-iron component. Meaning, it weighted about a zillion pounds. Even with my help, there was no way Tyler was going to get that boiler up the stairs. So he got out his protective eyewear and the sledge hammer and began pounding. It went something like this:
Shortly after he stopped trying to whack the boiler apart a clicking noise came out of the basement. It was so loud, I thought it was behind me. “Did you make that noise Cheek?” Tyler asked.
“No!” I emphatically said back, as I scurried up the stairs. “Is it an animal?”
“Maybe. Film this.” He replied.
So, he began working again…and the creature began clicking again. I took my phone out and google searched: MAMMAL, IOWA, CLICKING NOISE, BASEMENT.
It was one of my Rafikis from Africa.
While staying at the girls school in Tanzania, the “cabin” (for lack of a better term) the other two Americans and I stayed at had some bats. Some bats might be an understatement. It probably had a hundred bats living in the rafters (which we couldn’t see because of the ceiling). But every night, one bat would come into the room I stayed in and just fly back and forth. I think he was angry I was in his room. I had this little tent I took with me that was made of netting to protect from mosquito bites, to prevent malaria. Little did I know, when I purchased it, that it would protect me from my roommate the bat. I started referring to the bat as my Rafiki. As he seemed to calm down after a couple of nights staying together (and because I didn’t know the Kiswahili word for bat).
So we went on a bat hunt.
With little to show for the hunt, Tyler decided to call it a night. I guess I feel bad for the little bat. He choose an awful place to make a home. But I hope he figures out how to get out of the house that we can’t figure out how he got into.
Nice to know that my Rafikis follow me around on all continents!