Krait in the Bathroom

We spent most of the week at the country house, which was nice, but sometimes I think: "how the hell did this Cityboy, born in New York, end up in this freakin' jungle!"

We passed two elephants on the road coming up, including one really big one, and for the first time Poo's nervousness rubbed off on me. If that guy were to suddenly turn and swipe at us with that big trunk as we passed him on the narrow road, there would be some major damage. But, he just calmly kept munching the shrubbery on the side of the road, taking in his 200 kg per day.



One day, though, Poo said non-chalantly: "Yesterday, there was a snake in the bathroom. My father killed it."



"Was it a cobra?" I asked nervously.



"No, but if it bites you, you will die," she replied calmly.



After some research I decided it was probably a krait, 14 times more venomous than a cobra. I also came across this hair-raising story of an American snake scientist, named Joe, who died of a krait bite in nearby Burma. He was bitten on the finger, and he should have immediately chopped off his finger. He lasted 26 hours, kept alive by 22 hours of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation by the members of his team. After giving him mouth-to-mouth for ten hours, the two women on the team asked if they could rest and let the men take over, but Joe, who could only move his big toe, wiggled it furiously, indicating he preferred the women.



Now I am keeping a sharp meat cleaver in the kitchen. If any of us is bitten, I will immediately chop off the finger. I suppose I should train the women in the village in mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, too.