As a farm girl, I had some affection for childhood pets, but I was never particularly close to any of them because they lived outdoors. As an adult, I haven't gotten pets because my jobs/living situations haven't been very conducive. And, as I explained once to a friend, "I don't want to be beholden to a dog." I like being able to change plans, to leave for a few days, to pick up and move, and having a pet can complicate those things.
In Masamba, though, my pet serves two very useful purposes. First, she's (as my PCV neighbor Tony would say) an assassin. My rodent problem had reached an all-time high. Twice on weekends I had called in my hardy teenage brothers to kill a rat I'd seen scurry across the floor. After waking up many nights feeling vibrations on my bed, I was vindicated when I woke to the familiar sensation and discovered a mouse/rat (they're all the same to me) clinging, upside down, to the top corner of my mosquito net, not so many feet from my head. One of the mice killed by the teenage brothers (through repeated attempts to whack it with a big stick while it raced around my spare room) had three tiny mice still suckling; they threw the whole little family into my trash pit in lieu of a funeral. When I went back to look later, two of the babies were not dead and were trying to ascend the sod sides of the pit to escape. Apparently there were other babies left unattended, and they do not understand mousey protocol, because about a week later I was disturbed all night by incessant seke-seke mice noises. (A certain type of mice is called seke-seke because, I believe, "ukuseka" means "to laugh" in Mambwe, and they taunt you with their ridiculous high-pitched laughing noise.) I also kept hearing sliding along the black plastic lining of my roof, and I finally became so paranoid that there might be a snake up there that I woke up my three teen brothers around 3:00 a.m. to come check. Three short-clad, bare-chested teenage boys in the bedroom of a schoolteacher is not highly culturally appropriate, either here or in the U.S., but they're my brothers, and family take care of each other. Armed with a stick, they beat at the ceiling above my bed until one little baby mouse fell out, dead, but the noise continued. "Ali aingi," they said--"there are many." Reassured that there were only mice and no snakes, I thanked them and went back to sleep, but in the morning I was so fed up that I took the stick myself and beat at the roof until two baby mice tumbled out and I could scoop them up with a piece of cardboard and throw them in the pit. And all that's not to mention the rat I found dead on my stoop one day, cause unknown.
I have a mousetrap that has proven utterly worthless, but then again I haven't made much effort to bait it. I've avoided using poison because in some places, people eat rats, and I can't stomach the idea of possibly poisoning a person by accident. Additionally, as annoying as it is to have live rodents in your house, I think I'd be even more troubled by a rodent that ate poison and then crawled up in the thatch and died, perfuming my house for weeks with ceremonial decomposition.
As luck would have it, I told a friend about my ongoing rodent problem, and his fiancee happened to have new kittens for sale. A week or so and 10,000 kwacha (about $2) later, I found myself with a new companion. Which brings me to the second purpose of my pet. I didn't think I was lonely, but I have to say having a cat in the house made me realize the pleasure of company, even that of the feline persuasion. I talk with her (usually in Mambwe) when I enter or leave the house; she's slowly learning to sleep on my stomach or at my side and not on my neck; occasionally I berate her for nearly burning down my house due to her carelessness around candles; in general, we interact as many roommates might. It's delightful.
And since she came, I have heard a seke-seke in the roof only once. I looked at her and said, "Hear that? Go get it." I haven't heard or seen sign of a rodent since. And hence the second phonetic implication of Lila's name: Nalyla sana. (I am enjoying!)
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