During last year’s unusually warm winter, a cockroach society flourished in the dank kitchen of a ground-floor flat in one of the most densely-populated areas of the world, Kypseli. There were roaches in the sink, in the carpet, on the canvases, and on the tables. Without exaggeration, there were enough roaches to carpet the floor of a 10m2 room and then some.
Over a period of approximately five years, a small village gradually developed into a powerful nation. You could see it in the genetics. Wispy, light brown vegetarian roaches bordering on clean-looking suddenly turned into a burlier, heavier, juicer society that lived off filthier fare. Evolving like pioneers to the nature of their surroundings, the kitchen became their domain in their brave new world.
Through observation, I could easily distinguish the men from the women. Seriously. On the many nights I encountered them feeding on the kitchen floor, it was like being on a kindergarten field trip. Two to three big roaches were responsible for roughly ten little ones of varying sizes. There were always about three groups that were always accompanied by one or two butch, masculine-looking roaches who just stood there, keeping an eye on their women and their young. Very manly indeed. Almost chivalrous.
Things started to get really bad on one fateful night when I walked into the kitchen, flicked on the light and found a floor covered in over eighty roaches. They froze. I froze. Imagine finding that many roaches on your kitchen floor gathered together like a roach version of Kypseli’s main square, with children playing, mothers yapping and men discussing. I could hear the hum of activity. For an instant, I felt like I had rudely interrupted a community event.
Before you could say cockroach spray, the roaches implemented what appeared to be a well-planned emergency strategy. Children were herded up and shooed along to safety by the adult supervisors. Meanwhile, look-outs perched on both the ground and on the ceiling frantically paced at their posts preparing to receive the fleeing herd and take them into the safety of the building’s piping. The only bodies to remain on what was now no-man’s land were the adults, who seemed focused on saving the lives of the next generation. I couldn’t help but admire their bravery and evident social conscience. At the same time, I was beginning to feel pacifism and geeky interest was no longer an option.
The roaches soon learnt that there was a new boss in town, and it was clear that a lockdown had come into effect. The roaches were now spending most of their time indoors. Coming out only when the soldiers saw an opportunity for an impromptu soiree on my kitchen floor. On quiet nights, the ceiling guards would move slowly and deliberately along their patrol route whilst others remained frozen at their posts. On one occasion, as I silently watched them watching me, two soldiers crossed paths mid-route, pausing to exchange words, antennae moving purposefully in my direction. Clearly they were assessing the severity of the human breach. By then, the tension was becoming obvious and both sides knew there was a definite turf war underway.
As with all battles, the hardest part about living with the roaches was killing them. Every time I entered the kitchen brandishing sprays and heavy shoes, it felt like the holocaust. Roach spray was the worst visual metaphor for it. The image of Hitler always there when the hissing commenced and deadly gas fell upon futile escape attempts. Having observed them for so long, all the panic, running for lives and gathering of baby roaches poignantly demonstrated the god/power complex ‘civilised’ humans have over everything. In a sense, those cockroaches were as innocent and as much a part of the city as I was.
In fact, a recent study has observed that cockroaches live in fair and democratic societies. Sensitive to the group dynamic, cockroach societies make decisions together and everything is shared more or less equally. It has been proven that cockroaches operate societies as a community and are concerned with ensuring the safety and survival of their ‘people’. After living with them, I would have to say that I agree. Comparing insects to humans is nothing new, a Roman poet once used bees as a metaphor for society.
Living in Kypseli, which incidentally is Greek for beehive; those cockroaches were a microcosm of any city. An often cruel yet exhilirating place where millions of people work to live. What I had forgotten, is that its not just humans who have that same struggle. And it is not just humans who call the city their habitat. I have to say that I developed a begrudging respect for the little buggers. They were so resilient, so stubborn. It was as if the kitchen was their Canaan and not all the spray in the world would keep them from their holy land. when they developed wings, I upped and left. Wings were too Wright brothers for me and I didn’t want to be around for the dawning of their technological age. As with all technological booms, a surge in the population encouraged by a rotting apartment followed, making survival of infestation remote. I quickly moved into a flat in the same area and found myself living with an ant colony. You have to love the symmetry.
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