A pain in the ass

Rising to its reputation, Africa comes along with a whole buffet of exotic medical issues to boast about. I've felt many a surprising spark of envy as my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers relay brave stories: worms crawling underneath their skin, removed with a Swiss army knife; bacterial dysentery announcing its immediate arrival at the beginning of a two day bus trip; your array of intestinal worms, amoebas and other parasitic invaders; and malaria leaving volunteers achy and hallucinating. Our bowel movements are a regular topic of conversation, and, as our saying goes, "you aren't a real volunteer until you've shit your pants." Sadly, I haven't earned that badge yet. Other than a three week long battle with Giardia (parasitic dysentery), I've avoided most of these encounters, ameobozoa and animalia alike. I know, I know, we can't have it all. But alas, I knew this love affair I've been having with mangoes would come back to bite me in the ass.

Yes, thats right. The Tumbo fly, aka the Mango fly, has struck in the most unforgiving of places. It all started when I came back to village, as I sat squirming in the hard wood chairs during my community meeting, a strange feeling of aching on my bottom invaded my already lacking attention. I assumed I had bruised myself in my local Bush Taxi as I tried to balance myself on the hard wood bench during the bumpy ride. On further inspection using a pocket mirror and an unspeakably awkward position, I saw a strange red bump right in the middle of my left cheek, with a black dot in the center. Perplexed, I looked in my healthcare manual, assuming a strange rash of some sort. And there it was. Apparently, the Mango fly is nicknamed for its favorite breeding grounds - damp and warm - which is also well provided by clothes hung out to dry near mango trees. So there in my sun-drying underwear it found a perfect place to lay its eggs. Those eggs were then transferred to my, um, behind, as I wore said underwear as it burrowed into my flesh. The eggs then hatched into larva, creating the unrelenting feeling I was having of tiny pins, exacerbated by the lack of comfortable, cushioned seats. The health manual advised immediate removal. Thanks. As per its instruction, I covered the area with Vaseline, which apparently suffocates the larva, bringing it to the surface. And then I squeezed - pop! - out squirted the larva, finally relinquishing my left cheek from its occupation. I was flooded with relief as I cleaned the empty wound and went back in my hut for a nap, Tumbo fly free, with my wounded part in the air.
And so, well, Africa I really do love you, but right now you are really a fucking pain in my ass.