Of bats and men

I endured a “bitter-sweet” scene of drama last night. We are in the final week of Session E and I only had one more test to take. Here in Baghdad, the terrorists are fair-weather fighters: they rarely attack in bad weather or at night. From this assessment I’ve made it a practice to take my tests at night, when there is little activity on camp and no rocket attacks. Because the tests are timed on the computer, it would be very inconvenient to come under attack in the middle of a test.

Now, because of my job as a journalist, I have a pretty sweet working environment. My office is in Saddam Hussein’s personal terminal at Baghdad International Airport. It’s lavish, complete with a glass dome ceiling (see photo) and marble floors. I share the area with the camp’s commander and his staff.



Anyway, at about 9:30 p.m. while I was taking my test, a bat found its way into the building and was flying around up in the dome. Several people gathered to watch what would turn from a minor distraction to a major one.

The captain called entomology to come retrieve the bat. But when they arrived, they didn’t have nets or traps – only a flash light and a long stick.

So I’m sitting at my desk focusing on a question about the theme of Ephesians and enduring a scene of minor disorder. Until this point I got only the occasional “fly-by” visit from the “flying rat.” However, the guys from entomology engaged in their trapping technique, which involved turning out the lights and attempting to usher the bat outside with a bright flashlight. Some other guys decided they’d help by waiving some sticks (and one garden rake) at the bat.

So I’m at my desk taking a test, while there are guys jockeying around waiving sticks to and fro in the dark. The chief is waiving the rake and asking me why I’m not joining in the fun. I tried ignoring his question, but he just kept asking me in a louder voice. In addition to this, there’s a guy shining a flashlight around in the dome filled with reflective glass. The place looked like a disco club with a bunch of angry villagers going after an ogre. Eventually, they chased the bat out the door. I knew right when it happened too because they all started cheering like their team just won the Super Bowl. There were high fives all around and each person came to me personally to inform me what I already knew from the ruckus.

“We got ‘em Wicke! You should write a story!” Although I politely declined to cover their victory over the bat, I can’t help but love these people.

I scored my lowest grade in the class (78%) but I couldn’t be upset because it was just too comical. I’ll likely never experience anything like it again.