What I learnt from my hubby’s fights with mosquitoes

Is it just me or have mosquitoes become bolder and more ambitious?
They have liberally multiplied and amplified their biting tactics. It used to be that the higher up you lived in a flat, the less likely you were to suffer from the unwanted guest that’s the mosquito. Not anymore.
The Nairobi mosquito is cruel and arrogant. It has moved from being a hustler fighting pesticides on the ground and first floors into a hard-nosed bloodsucker on the third and fourth floors. Whereas we had not bothered with mosquito nets and repellents before, I now find that these are survival kits even for those that live on fourth-floor apartments.

Man vs mosquito

While my babies and I are covered in insect repellent and sleep under the nets, my husband has decided not to let the mosquitoes cramp his style. He feels the mosquito net makes the bed hot and clammy, and the idea of a smelly cream on him is not appealing. So what does he do? He puts up a fight. It is a battle of wills. Man versus mosquito.
As soon as we switch off the bedroom lights, the mosquitoes make a call to action. They avoid me because I am caked in insect repellent. They go for him, full throttle. I am usually falling into slumber land when I hear a thud, a slipper against the wall, lights coming on and a shout, “I got you!” before finding my orientation. I open my eyes just a wee bit, and the sight of a triumphant husband, slipper in hand makes me chuckle. “I killed two!” he exclaims. I roll my eyes and get back to my sleep, only to be awoken by the same shouts. How the mosquitoes don’t get to give up is a grit test. 
If anything, the more he kills them, the more they regroup. They come back with a vengeance. Even when I am not tucked in the net, they leave me alone and go for him. I suspect that they are all male, and this is a guy thing. It is that senseless competitive streak that will lead men to battle over an otherwise debatable issue.
“Why not use the mosquito repellent? They will soon tire of hunting. Or starve and leave us alone.” Sometimes I ask him when I catch him standing still, a slipper in hand, staring at a wall. He stays as even as an army officer crouching behind a bush, weapon in hand, watching the enemy approach, waiting.

Blood-stained wall

“Shhh. Wait…” he whispers, without moving, hunter mode on. His eyesight is impeccable, his blow swift. Mosquito down.
I was okay with ignoring their nightly tiffs but now find myself drawn in, to collect the bodies. Every morning, there is a blood-stained wall with a dead, nay, mangled mosquito remains. Who cleans the bedroom walls every other day? I do, otherwise, the children will wonder about the bloodstains. I am past wondering what our neighbours think when they hear the thuds and slaps. Are there flowers that can keep off mosquitoes? I wonder.
Their nightly fights have taught me a thing or two. First, learn to choose your battles wisely. Not every battle must be won. There are those kinds of fights that we need a repellent, or bury our heads in a net and enjoy a good night’s sleep. And second, if one fighting tactic is not working, find other less noisy, which less bloody ways to fight. 
And yes, night battles are rarely fruitfully resolved, because, by bedtime, people are tired, impatient and not in the mood for long winding arguments. Sleep over it –hopefully under a net-and wake up refreshed, ready to take a long walk together for battle. 
Like the real wars, there’s a chance of fair play out there in the fields. And because your spouse is not your enemy, there’s a chance, too , of reawakening your romance.