Ants in my pants

Ants are persistent.

Every winter, when the fires and the wind turn the grass brown and the water no longer lies in puddles in the driveway, the ants on our land move into the bottom of the passage-way and build Dogon-style turreted buildings between the wall and the floor.

These magnificent buildings rise up on a daily basis. Filled with corridors and rounded rooms, the organic shapes of sweet smelling soil evolve from the crack at the edge of the carpet and colonise the corners and along the wall. Busy workers move about with efficiency and purpose, the whole tribe gets involved. This is an organized community.

The center point of this colonial power is four kilometers away from us, on a farm near a dam up the hill. The outposts of the kingdom can be seen far and wide, rising out of fields like fat brown rocks.

Ants will undo the work that humans have put in. They will eat the roots of the crops and digest the walls of houses. They will clear up all the kak and lots that is not. Like I said: they are persistent.

Along with other colonized locals, I can’t get rid of them - even if I poisoned all my land they would still return the next year and I am not about to do that anyway. One year, in a desperate attempt to fight back, I overran my non-interventionist and organic policies and resorted to localized toxins, but hated myself and the smell, worried about the kids and the chickens and gave up when the ants returned ten-fold soon after. Besides, I kinda like them, I respect that this is their land as well as mine and I do enjoy the eco-building tips.

So, what’s to learn here - apart from the fact that I’m learning to share space as I wait for my house to fall down?

Persistence. This is the lesson I want to learn from these mini-guru’s. Don’t give up – even when your house is pulled down and your babies are fed to the chickens on a daily basis. Even when you have salts, chalks and poisons used against you. Even when all your work is disrespected and rent asunder, don’t give up.

So, despite my inner two-year old and my demonic critic that sits on my right shoulder and pisses on my attempts – I am still going to do my 10 000 hours.

Yay ants!