The Sting and the Honey

Last week I whined about the worry from late income tax payments (Thanks to our son Erik and his law firm, we are saved from a second federal career at Leavenworth, Kansas). This week we hit a more painful sting!
On Wednesday the beautiful female maintenance worker who is an electrician, came to my office and whispered that she wanted to show me something. I followed her out to the wards and she pointed up to the fluorescent light fixture in the glass enclosed hallway. Hundreds of bees were sleeping on the ends of the fixture in cool misty morning. We then walked through the porch corridor and spotted hundreds more bees sleeping on the fixtures making the white metal dark brown in appearance. Discussion of the ramifications brought some concern as to what might occur when the ward warmed up and the bees came to life. Also the source and purpose of the bees foray into the hospital remained a mystery.
I walked back to the Admin Building and someone pointed out an old chimney on the ward with swarms of bees hovering around the abandoned tower. It appeared that the bees had chosen the old chimney as a hive and the hospital as home. Calls to off site administrators provided several means of dealing with the problem. Get a bee keeper (couldn’t happen until the weekend) or flood the chimney with Fumitabs vapor and quickly seal off the hive. The day was spent in locating the Fumitabs and by Thursday we were ready for war with the bees who amazingly had not stung any patients and were pretty good neighbors.
Thursday morning came and the Maintenance Dept was ready for combat. The Maintenance Supervisor came to my flat and I outfitted him with Peace Corps mosquito netting wrapped around a trekking hat. He and a helper took a ladder and climbed up on the tin roof to the chimney. Alas, instead of throwing the Fumitabs into the hive, quickly covering the chimney and getting the heck out, they dawdled. I went out of the office to see what was happening and was astounded to seem them fooling around with the contents of the hive. Within a few seconds I was swarmed by angry bees that had just had home and hearth ripped apart. The bees were trapped by my long hair and starting stinging my scalp, face and hands. I ran back to our flat behind the office and smashed the trapped bees dead against my scalp. I pulled stingers out of my hands and grabbed for cans of DOOM, the local insecticide. The burn began. I twisted my hair into a tight knot against my head and pulled dead bees out of the tresses. This was one time I wished I had followed several Peace Corps Volunteers examples and gone for the shave. I went back into the safety of the office and the youth chaplain looked at me and pulled a stinger out of my eyelid. ( I don’t know if this has anything to do with Biblical admonitions about beams and motes in the eyes but on this day my stinger was removed by a spiritual healer.)
For the life of me I could not understand all the dawdling and fooling around on the tin roof. When I looked out the window the picture became clear. Its all about the HONEY!! The two maintenance employees were pulling the honeycombs out one by one and throwing them onto the tin roof of the wards, releasing all of the angry bees. I started calling to the nurses warning them to close the windows of the hospital and trying to get the patients into the wards. No one moved from their vigils outside next to the chimney. In fact a carnival atmosphere took over the whole hospital. The meek supervisor of the storeroom arrived with a feather duster and started swatting the swarming bees. (he later had to wear sunglasses to hide his swollen face). Several male patients could not be moved as they said they were used to bees. A female registered nurse was cautioned as she neared the fray but stated that Jesus would protect her. The homeless bees swarmed on the roof on the ward as the honeycombs made their way down to the hungry masses. The ladder slipped as the maintenance supervisor climbed back to the ground but he grabbed the fascia and rolled his legs around the ladder. The booty was moved to the yard next to the workshop and the workers and patients gathered to admire the hunters, gatherers, and treasure. They picked off pieces of the forbidden fruit and bit into the hardwon sweet. Smiles and looks of victory were exchanged.
The next day the price of victory became apparent. Many employees (thankfully no patients were stung) were suffering from beestings. The mood of the hospital was very quiet. This experience was a lesson in differing perceptions of danger and the oneness that Zulus share with nature. However, after 3 days my stings are still smarting and my face is swollen. I may not be ready for another lesson in nature’s bounty. I also wonder if the queen is still in the chimney as a few bees are still buzzing around.