QUICK! The racket!

There are few things in life I find more immediately satisfying than zapping a mosquito with an electrified racket. Or a "Rechargeable Mosquito-Hitting Swatter", if we want to get technical. Bad day? Zap a mosquito. Good day? Zap a mosquito. And another, and another, and another. The cathartic nature of the kill brings inner peace and tranquility. Perhaps more so than yoga.

The RMHS is, I'd argue, one of the world's best inventions. For a mere 10,000 shillings handed over to one of the hawkers at your nearest roundabout, you, too, can own this mosquito murdering device. Just plug it in to charge for, well, 4 hours, if you go with the instructions on the front of the package, or 8-10, if you go with those on the back, flick the switch, hold the trigger, swipe the swatter gently through the air, and ZAP ZAPPITY ZAP ZAP - mosquito carcass to the floor.

The glee this brings Meredith and myself in our insect-infested domicile is, I admit, a bit alarming. Meredith is something of a vegetarian (well, ovo-pesca-lacto-vege-tarian), as well as something of a Buddhist. There was at first a bit of cognitive dissonance over our killing sprees. After a conversation with her sister, however, she was able to justify the karmic value of the mosquito deaths with the arguments that: 1.) The mosquito has the ability to transmit malaria to several humans, so she is potentially saving many lives; and 2.) If she were a mosquito, she'd want to leave this earthly realm as quickly as possible, so that she could come back as something else. Because, let's face it, there isn't much worse than being a mosquito.

So, our nightly executions have become almost a game. "Over there!" "By your leg!" At this point, we've forgotten there is any other way to dispose of mosquitoes. One will land on our arm, and, rather than the sound of the old-fashioned slap, you'll hear, "QUICK! The racket!"