...and then I almost lost bowel control.

We celebrated Easter by attending mass at the Catholic church (don’t look at me like that. We obviously don’t get General Conference on TV here, and we don’t have internet, and even if we DID have internet it wouldn’t be fast enough to stream it anyway). It was our first mass ever. I’m sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much in the States, but the Caribbean flair made it fantastic. We sang beautiful old minor-keyed Catholic carols between upbeat alleluias to the tune of a synthesizer mixing organ sounds with a calliope and steel drums. My favorite part was the fully choreographed musical number put on by about 30 local children. (Obviously this first paragraph had nothing to do with the title. That part starts now.)

Later on we had Easter dinner with friends, and lingered well past dark. As we made our way home, we came to an intersection. We could go home the way we came – about a mile on a narrow, overgrown, disintegrating road – or we could go the long way through town. I was dead set on the long way. In fact, even before we’d left for the party I’d warned Jon that I ABSOLUTELY WOULD NOT make the same walk back in the pitch dark. I’ve seen some of the creatures that come creeping out when the moon comes up, and that overgrown road was sure to be teeming with them. But when we came to the intersection where we had to decide, Jon was reluctant. No matter which way we went, he argued, it would be pitch black. Might as well shorten the trip. I disagreed, and reminded him firmly that I’d already made my decision before we left our house. Then he played his trump card:


He reminded me that this bull lives along the route I wanted to take. We’ve seen him in the same spot three or four times. Have you ever seen anything more fear-inducing?? I’ve pretty much been terrified of bulls ever since that one time, and my fear of encountering this guy in the dark overwhelmed my fear of wading through tarantulas and poisonous centipedes. So I gave in, linked my arm with Jon’s, and we set off into the darkness, the dim glow of our mini-flashlight dancing ahead of us. We made our way to the first crossroads without incident, and turned right for the second leg of the journey.

Then, it happened.

At the absolute narrowest, darkest point in the entire trip – with a tall, vine-covered fence on either side of us, where the road is barely wide enough to allow one vehicle through – Jon’s flashlight suddenly quit bouncing and stood fixed on something in the road just ahead of us. Immediately he grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him, positioning himself between me and the huge, lumbering bull that was coming towards us.

[insert title here]. IMMINENT DEATH. I knew it, and despite what Jon tries to say after the fact, he was pretty sure we were destined to die, too. He was all, “Get behind me!! Stay behind me!!! Whatever happens, I love you!!” (Maybe I threw that last part in, but believe me, he was scared). Meanwhile I’m having what seemed to be bordering on a panic attack. When we explained this story to a friend the day after, Jon goes, “So I’m positioned between the bull and Jessie, and she’s making all these weird noises”. The sound was something like loud, prolonged, repetitive inhaling. Less pronounced than a scream, more pronounced than a gasp. A scrasp, if you will.

Anyway, at this point, it’s only been moments since Jon first caught sight of it. By the time we knew he was there, he must have been only 10 feet from our noses. So Jon pulls me behind him, and I’m noisily panicking, and what do you know, the dumb beast didn’t even glance at us as it walked on by. It passed within three feet of us and just kept on going until it was lost to the darkness. I continued scrasping for another 30 seconds and my heart was still racing fifteen minutes later when we reached our house.

I hope your Easter was happy and not at all scary.