Eventually most of the team wound up hanging around the latrine to peek at the scorpion. Finally Tom wanders by along with another male member of the team - Scott. A debate ensues regarding whether we should kill the scorpion, chase it off, or catch it and release it somewhere else. Mostly, I really need to pee and I was almost asleep on my feet so I finally snarled something to the effect of "get it the hell out of there so I can pee, dammit."
Scott went off to fetch a tin can and somehow got the scorpion into it. I got Tom to stand guard outside the latrine while I used it as though that would somehow protect me from scorpions. Then I went to bed.
Meanwhile, Scott was showing off his new friend, "Pinchy."
Image by shovelingtom via Flickr
After a while, Scott took Pinchy off into the desert and let him go. The villagers were less than pleased by Pinchy's reprieve - scorpions are serious business. While a scorpion sting usually kills only the very young, old, or sick, the pain is supposed to be horrific and nearly maddening and often there isn't much that can be done but wait it out. Thus, they kill the little bastards on sight.
Anyway, several months later after we'd all come home and Tom and I wound up moving to a different apartment, Scott sent us a lovely housewarming gift and I decided he needed to have a memento to remind him of Pinchy and his 2 months in the Sudanese desert with a bunch of crazy people.
So, I crocheted a scorpion. I think I borrowed the claw pattern from a free lobster pattern and made up the rest as I went along. And found a can to put it in. And then let it sit on my desk for a year because procrastination is cool or something.
So, after staring at it and thinking "hrm, I should put together the package of stuff for Scott and mail it" for the thousandth time today, I decided to actually, you know, do it. Yay!
I made sure to document Pinchy too.
|Re-enactment of discovering Pinchy in the latrine|
|Recreation of Pinchy's temporary home.|
|Pinchy, hanging out where he blends in like the sneaky little bastard he is.|
|Close-up. He can smell your fear.|