What Goes Glow in the Dark?
Scorpions glow in the dark. Did you know that? I didn’t until I did. This enlightenment happened on a dark, stary night in an African bush camp. I was well and truly snuggled into the ring of coziness emanating from the campfire. The flames dancing to that universal music we can’t hear and I am mesmerized. I’m called out of my reverie by cries of excitement from the kids. Their Uncle, Shaun, the Steve Erwin of our family, has roused the kids’ imaginations with stories of glow-in-the-dark scorpions. Being from the generation of the film The Predator, I feel less enthusiastic to go out into the pitch dark. I think I can hear some strange clicking in the distance.
I stand up and stretch and feel the cold creep around my warm flesh, making me conscious of the fact that the cool night air quickly replaces the warmth. The night sky is cloudless and, as I stretch my body, look up to the heavens that are alive with stars. More stars than any city dweller can imagine. The milky way stretches across the sky like a thick spatter of white paint. Cities cannot see any of this. What a shame. I stare at this scene, craning my neck at an impossible angle. I will not be able to hold it for long.
The bushveld is not silent this evening. When is it ever? The nocturnal animals have been woken by their circadian rhythms and are now feeding and talking and moving and loving in the deep dark night. The dark is absolute here in the bush. Beyond the camp fire and the lights from the Lapa, it’s pitch black. The torch will light my way to the hut, but I have to be careful and look out for what creature may have found its way to where I sleep.
The darkness can seem overwhelming for anyone not born into it or grown up with it. It speaks of so many things that terrify the city dwellers: the unknown, being out of control and rooted in the uncertainty of nature. To me the dark is comforting, the unknown is comforting. I can work with what I cannot see. It allows relief from a world that thinks it knows everything and can shine light into every corner of the world. The darkness is not an absence of life. Life goes on in the dark, just not for humans without light, and this I must admit, is the most attractive part of being in the bush: living from sunrise to sunset and then resting in the dark.
It can be a terrible time for city dwellers who want to fill the hours of darkness with activity and social media, updating, influencing, or anything but sitting and contemplating. Darkness brings people together. The campfire is that little light where nothing useful to modern people can happen: slow conversations, magical stories, connection and rest. It is a special place where we detox from our electronic lives. Back in the city, I will long for the darkness to encircle me around a campfire and keep me safe from the frenzy.
The wild animals can see and smell better than we can. I wonder what they think as they see the dancing light of the campfire in the distance? They know not to approach too closely as man’s fears are a terrible thing. It will destroy their life, that much they must know. They know it all too well I imagine, but they cannot stop us. They are themselves, that’s why. As themselves they are non-violent (even those who use violence to eat) and benign to their surroundings, unlike us. “If they could, would they stop us?” I wonder. Who can stop us from destroying this incredibly beautiful world? No one!
The kids are bouncing up and down as I come out my hut putting a jersey on. The static electricity sparks off miniature lightning bolts as my body rubs against the wool. The crackle and pop remind me that there are forces unseen in this world that make it beautiful. The kid’s excitement is not matched with my own. I would rather have stayed by the fires’ side. I feel less adventurous tonight – what is my intuition telling me? I ask Shaun if there are any predators lurking in the dark. He nonchalantly tells us that there is a Leopard on the property somewhere, but that there is nothing to worry about. It hasn’t been spotted for a couple of days and it is a very shy creature that will not come near such a big group of people. His confidence is infectious, I think no more of it.
Of course, the kids need for adventure is youthful excitement. It takes me a moment to remember mine. That ants in my pants desire to always be moving and being moved by my curiosity comes back to me. My body has done a lot of moving and answered so many questions for me. I am consciously grateful. I have no aches and pains really, a swimming career protects knees, ankles and cartilage. There is a growing heaviness though in the body. I call it existential drag. The longer you live the more drag is my theory. Maybe it is just the body slowing down through age. I am not sure but I feel it. It is a blessing to me that I am so in tune with my body and feel all of it – the good and the bad.
Uncle Shaun, aka Steve Erwin (without the Australian accent – but with the Afrikaans accent) gives us each an Ultraviolet (UV) torch, also called a blacklight. I ask why it is called such, my curiosity getting the better of me. Shaun explains that humans can’t see UV and hence why it is black. It emits a purple light and so I am confused but leave it there. The UV light does nothing to illuminate the darkness – now I get why it is called a blacklight.
We walk in single file down a trail that starts at the back of the camp and the one we use to go to the bird hide. The torches of white light illuminate a patch of ground in front of us. I recognize the ground beneath my feet, yet I cannot look up. The dark unbalances me and I feel as if I am in a completely new setting. I want to look up. We walk for five minutes, then branch off to the right, on a path I hadn’t seen in the daylight. Another couple of minutes and then we stop. Shaun tells us this will be the best spot to start looking. An endeavour that I think will prove fruitless. It does not take long to find the first scorpion. A squeal of delight is emitted from one of the young ones. As quickly as the terrain and darkness can allow, we all file over and see what all the fuss is about.
There on the ground the most glorious sight. A scorpion glowing turquoise. Of course, it wasn’t actually glowing, but it felt like it. Shaun showed us the difference. White light and one can barely make out that it is anything but a rock maybe, throw the UV light over it and it lights up to a colour and brilliance that dazzle the mind and eye. Oohs and aahs gush out of us. We can’t take our eyes off the beauty of the thing. Looking like a piece of jewelry. Jade carved in the form of a scorpion; we lose any feeling of danger that had shadowed us on the walk out. Shaun bends down and picks it up and puts it in his hand. We all take a step back. He tells us not to be anxious. Its ok to come closer. We move a little closer. He asks who would like to hold it. My fearless child is the first to stick her hand up. What have I done to deserve this creature? Shaun calls her forward and places the scorpion gently on her hand and tells her to stay still. My child’s face lights up and even in the dark is almost as radiant as the scorpion’s skeleton. The scorpion wears its armour on the outside.
We continue to search for scorpions and find half a dozen under rocks. There is no need to call each other over now as the surprise of finding one has worn off, but not the surprise of their beauty. A noise silences the night and our delight. A throaty sound, like the sound of sawing through coarse wood comes to our ears. It is a strangely terrifying sound. We all freeze. A cold sweat comes to the back of my neck. I look at Shaun, there is no hint of the white of hope.
